Let's Be Real
by FallingInStereo
Summary: ...none of us would survive in Remnant as easily as many stories might make it seem. My interpretation of the self-insert idea. "Have you ever gotten shot?" Will cherry-pick from canon, as this won't be directly related to the given story. It's honestly going to seem rushed and clunky, as I just want to put the full idea out there.
1. Chapter 1

Let's Be Real

…none of us would survive Beacon life. As realistic as I can make an Earth-to-Remnant story as a self-insert.

/

Have you ever gotten shot? No? Well, it hurts. It hurts way too much…well actually there's a cylindrical piece of metal that just barreled through my side…so maybe it hurts the right amount, considering that. I glance up and watch the grey metal in the hands of a hooded figure as it's trained on me again—as another piece of metal flies through the dark point and towards me. Time seems to slow down.

And speed up as the wielder of the weapon's shaky hand fires just a bit away from my head, lodging into the pavement. I keep my eyes closed after feeling and hearing the air make rapid room for the spinning bullet as it passed my head. But hey, I'm not dead after two shots. Huh, maybe luck is on my—

 _BANG_

…side. Never, _never_ get involved in drugs. Product wars start. People die. I died. I think. Did I just die?

I open my eyes, and the distinct pain reverberating through the side of my torso screams, demanding to be attended to. Nope, can't be dead if I still feel pain. Right? I get into an upright position as best as I can, propping myself up on one arm.

"This…is not a warehouse," I note. In fact, it's not even nighttime. It might be cloudy, and there might be a ton of rain making me shiver and making the blood leaking out of my side diffuse even faster into my shirt, but I was definitely getting shot at _night_. I surely didn't fall unconscious—otherwise my side wouldn't still be bleeding. I appear to be in a small ditch in the ground, which I start pulling myself out of.

"What," I deadpan, noticing the giant airplane-like things meandering through the air above me. "That's not normal. Getting shot isn't normal. I got _shot_ holy shit." I quickly take off my shirt and wrap it around my midsection to apply pressure to the wound and absorb some of the blood, relying on zipping up my hoodie—luckily dark enough to make the blood stains on it barely visible—to keep myself decent and protected from the rain. I pull myself out of the ditch, and start making my way down the hill towards civilization…I hope. I'm just following the direction of the floating metal blimp thing.

/

I ignore the stares from people as best as I can. A teenager running around in a black hoodie obscuring his face? It doesn't matter if it's day time or not, that's bound to trigger some suspicion. To my luck, the border between the sparse forest and the city was just the guard rail of a highway. The fancy holographic guard rail. It was a _long_ walk to get here, but now I can start looking for answers: like "How did we develop the technology for floating metal blimp things again overnight? Where in the fuck am I? Et cetera."

At least, in the hour or two that it took me to get here, the rain let up a lot. A passing storm. A TV set in a store appears to be on in the windowsill across the street. I make my way over to it after making sure no one would run me down with their front bumper. First thing to note: What the hell is Vale?

"Lisa Lavender reporting here: Reports of a giant robot running through the highways of Vale have been coming in since yesterday evening. While not much is known about the origin or intent of this, the remains of an Atlesian Paladin have been found below the highways of the inner city."

"Atlesian…Paladin. Seems legit. Robot knights. Fun," I grumble to myself. Earth doesn't have fancy giant robots capable of running through the highways. The news report switches to a B roll from a ground camera, trying to weave its view through a throng of other news casters and spectators and focus on the chunks of metal as policemen within the border of the yellow tape record and capture everything they can from the scene.

"The Atlesian Paladin was only recently unveiled by General Ironwood of the Atlas Military. He has yet to make a report on this incident, but it begs the question: Who stole one of these pioneered machines? And why?" the reporter—Lisa—continues. The B roll camera manages to zoom in on a crumpled panel among the robotic wreckage: A red painted symbol of a wolf's profile. The fangs are bared, and there are three painted claw marks running diagonally behind it. "And now the weather."

"No, not the weather. It was raining. Now it's not. That's it. Tada," I groan, resisting the urge to hit the glass in frustration. _I need more information, news lady, come on!_ _Atlas, Vale, Paladin, funky wolf symbol, fancy flying metal blimps, what the hell. Did someone send me through a time loop where all civilization died or something? There's an idea. I could prove it if I had a map._ I roll my eyes as I realize that I still have my phone with me. I take the thing out, turning it on and finding…no bars. Shrugging, I unlock the device and go on the internet anyway, and…nothing. Oh.

 _Oh, they changed the people who run the cell phone companies in the future, too, huh? How many updates do I need to download?_ I puff my cheeks in frustration, raising my phone to the sky as if that would somehow magically give it a signal. This actions instantly reminds me of the fact that there's still a _bullet_ in my side. I clutch my hand to the wound, ignoring the sidelong glance of a woman passing by with a bag of groceries. She seems to pull away as she passes, positioning her body between me and the products. Food. _Damnit, I could use some of that, too._

"I can scream clearly now, the rain is gone," I whisper, my voice somewhat hoarse. "Seriously, what the hell is going on?" I glance up and at the castle in the distance, and the single green light pulsing from the tip of the clock tower.

/

A/N haha, shitty self inserts, right? This was a quick idea, so I don't know how far it will continue, or if it even will. At the very least, I'll give a synopsis of how this story would've continued and finished off, if it gets discontinued.

In part, this is probably going to be used to poke fun at how some self-inserts seem to go. After all, personally, it's unlikely that any random human could be dropped into the Remnant-verse and survive with minimal problems…at least, surviving at _Beacon_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, many people were apparently interested in seeing this be at least a little bit more fleshed out, so here we go. In order to make sure I actually finish this, this story will have a lot less planning/length than I normally shoot for.**

 **Alphay1: The only main difference here between many Earth-to-Remnant ff and this one is the premise, a random kid, who's actually not exactly a nerd, being dropped into a fictional world he doesn't even know exists (rather than a RWBY fan suddenly appearing at Beacon). At least, that's my hope, as throwing in stereotypical situations just to have the mc do the opposite of the norm becomes a bit…clunky in design.**

 **Jashl Xxify: Thanks! Hopefully I'll be able to keep up some realism with this story, but then again I'm an action-fantasy writer…**

 **Recycler: Wait Vale is an actual city? Whoops…I always thought (if you look at my other terrible long-term story) that it was being used as a homonym for veil…**

 **Ozwibs: That prediction tho…**

/

If I look like a bumbling idiotic homeless man, I wouldn't be surprised. After calming down…somewhat…I do a quick inventory on myself. Phone that's only useful for playing Tetris and Cytus? Check. Wallet, which will probably only serve to prove that I'm _not_ insane in saying I'm from the past? Check. Bullet wound? Ow.

Suspicious four Ziploc bags with either green leaves or a white powder-like substance in them? Check. Equally suspicious orange cylinder? Check.

I'll either have to dump it all, use it all for myself—which is stupid—or maybe use it as leverage. I mean, drugs still exist in the future, right? Yeah. Best place for me to go, probably? Uh…bars, clubs, dark alleyways, abandoned warehouses with a withdrawn cocaine addict pointing a gun at you—

I grimace at the memory, but hey: I've been transported to the future or something, and psycho Dave has not! _Suck it, Dave._ I formulate the most useless skeleton of a plan: Find some source of information—I'll probably have to work for it, but whatever—and maybe assimilate myself into this new version of the world. After all, if I stand out too much I'll be screwed.

After hearing the pained whines of my stomach, I groan and pull out my wallet. Considering that Dave decided to give me a bullet instead of eighty dollars, I only have twenty. Hopefully inflation doesn't exist in the future. I locate the nearest store and walk in, quickly rifling through the commodities. I drop the goods—mostly snack foods and some energy drink—onto the counter and pull out my wallet

"That'll be twelve lien," the cashier informs me. _Lien? Uh…_ I visibly pause, glancing down at the paper bills in my hand. Dollars.

"Uh…I'm guessing that this isn't this 'lien' you're referring to," I grimace, raising the series of bills.

"What, you think you can try to pawn off some strange pieces of green paper as lien to me?" the cashier seems irritated, fox ears flicking back on top of his head. Fox ears? I try to not have my gaze focus on them for too long, but he seems to have noticed anyway. "Pay up or get out."

"Look, I'm sort of new to the area and I'm beyond starving. Could I maybe just work in the back or something to pay this off?" I suggest.

"No. Some idiot kid doing the same menial work I could do myself doesn't pay my bills. Get out." Someone's having a bad day, it seems.

"But—"

"Get _out_ ," the cashier's right arm moves under the table, preceding the distinct click of a shotgun.

"Shit, nope. You've got a gun. Nope. Not again, never again," I stumble backwards before bolting for the door. After a few moments to round the corner and catch my breath…and hiss at the pain that physical exertion brought me, I let my mind catch up as well. "Man…with fox ears…shotgun…lien is money…Damn."

 _What the hell is this place? Did some psycho scientist in the future splice the DNA of animals and humans? Is this even the equivalent of America? We'd never abandon the paper money unless it all went electronic. And what was that guy's_ deal _? Pulling a shotgun on a random teenager?_

I can feel more blood seeping through my wound, but at least it's clotting by now. Now, if I could _not_ have a scare that forces me to move my side that much, that would be great. As night falls, I let my ears tune in to the city. The slightest thump against the pavement as I approach. The distinct sound of bass in the distance, most likely slapping its closer listeners in the face with force.

A club. As I slowly locate it in the painful manner of seeing if the already-faint sounds get father or closer—it might not sound that hard, but when they change the song, it can be—a single magenta strobe light steals my attention. As I approach where I saw it from, the sounds get louder, the bass hits harder. Finally. I peek around the corner and notice two guys at the door, seeming incredibly bored as one or two scarce patrons enter the establishment. I'd say it's surprising, but this place also seems to be built in a more dangerous area of the city.

I do my best to exude an aura of calm, sauntering nonchalantly between the two guards. A hand is on my shoulder the second my own fingers brush the door handle.

"Beat it, kid," the goon bares his teeth the slightest bit, his eyes hidden behind red shades. What isn't hidden by them is the twitch in his thumb. The same type of twitch I've seen on people who haven't had hemp or heroin in a while. Maybe I can coerce him to let me in.

"Hey, man, I think you need to chill out a bit," I flash a grin, standing tall and moving my own hand to wrap around his neck. The sound of something metal clicking behind me terrifies me, but I ignore it. "How long have you been standing out here? Can't really get a fix while you're still standing at the door, huh?"

"Excuse me?" the goon grumbles, moving to remove my hand from his shoulder.

"Your hand is twitching. Like a drug addict," I reply. "I could hook you up if you just—" A knee hits my gut, and something metal whacks against the side of my head, sending me sprawling to the floor a few feet away. My wound opens up again as I try to get back on my feet. Just as the thuds of black shoes come next to my body, a voice cuts through the din, clear even with the music seeping through the door.

"Hey! Let him in, let's see what he's up to," the voice commands. Next thing I know there are two hands grabbing me by the arm and wrenching me to my feet. I raise my head and look my "savior" in the eye. A tall man with close cut hair and a full beard. In a vest, white dress shirt, and red tie, it's clear that he's one of the more powerful people around. Or a bartender. Either way. The man glances down at my side before looking at me directly, adjusting his tie. "The name's Junior."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Chapter three is a thing. To answer Ozwibs: Jaune plays an…interesting role in this interpretation of the world. And the destruction of the Yellow trailer will probably only be sparsely referenced, as Junior's club looked mostly intact in its appearance during the season 2 interrogation.

/

"Have a seat, kid," Junior takes his own suggestion by reclining into the well-padded red chair on the opposite end of the small coffee table. The room in the back isn't well-lit, the few overhead lights casting warped shadows over the maroon theme of the area. I'm more or less forced to submit, as a strong goon shoulder pushes me into the chair. The other one drops the contents of my pocket onto the table surface, the phone clattering momentarily on the frosted glass. "So, what's all this?"

"Metal, leather, plastic, powder, plant, cylinder," I shrug, pointing to my phone, wallet, Ziploc bag, cocaine, weed, and oxycodone, respectively. I receive a smack to the back of my head for this. I roll my eyes before amending. "Phone, wallet, bag, drugs, drugs, drugs."

"Drugs, huh? You planning to undermine my own business in front of me, kid?" Junior narrows his eyes and leans forward.

"Oh, so this is one of those underground places, huh? Good. I need a Vale ID and one of those funky holographic smartphone things you have," I request nonchalantly. "The product there was just my in to locate someone who can actually get me what I need."

"And why would you need such things?" Junior doesn't even bother looking at me, picking up and opening my wallet with no regard for my presence. He lists the information from my driver's license aloud, skeptically. "The hell is a New York?"

"I need such things because what I have here is outdated," I reign in the urge to hit the goons as they inspect the bills in my wallet and try messing with my phone. The one on my left activates the lock screen, pausing before turning it towards Junior. My lock screen: a picture of me and my girlfriend. I do my best to ignore the sudden cold pulse in my chest at remembering that I left her behind.

"You seem like a good kid, Brandon," Junior glances at the driver's license in between his fingers while also gesturing to the phone. "Your tech is weird, but you seem like a good kid. I can get you what you need, but I'd like to know what you can offer me in return. This stuff doesn't come for free, after all."

"I can hit things with a stick, run really fast, and sell drugs, so there's that." Junior takes his sweet time ruminating over this, before seemingly deciding on the affirmative.

"Done," Junior accepts my offer. "I guess a good runner is always useful for delivery." I nod my thanks to him as he in turn nods to the goons. "Get him patched up and in some fresh clothes. I'll work with him on his ID and Scroll." As everything starts to fall into place, with me giving what information is needed, Junior's curiosity gets the better of him. "Why do you need a new ID and Scroll anyway?"

I spend some time thinking about this. After all, it's not like I'm going to be living the life of a full-blown criminal. I have—had?—dreams, aspirations. I'm also still completely lost as to how this new future works, and where I might fit into it all. Well, there's always one place to go to learn about the real world and try out new things as a kid. "I want to go to school."

/

 _This was a terrible idea_ , I grimace internally as I stand in front of the class. The bandage wrapped around my midsection itches, but I ignore it as best as I can.

"Class, we have a new student today: This is Brandon Jerrit from the outlands," the teacher informs the rest of the people in the classroom. As expected, none of them particularly care. There appears to be a few eyebrows raised at the mention of the outlands. I have no idea what that is, but Junior assured me it was a good cover. "Brandon, is there anything you'd like to tell the class about yourself?"

"Not particularly," I shrug off the suggestion, moving straight for the open desk in the back. The way it is now, Junior provides me with what I need as long as I help him out in the club and push stuff around.

"Okay then…so today we're gonna start with a quick refresher on humanity's mortal enemy: The Creatures of Grimm," the teacher starts, expanding and typing into her Scroll as the same words appear on the screen-board behind her. I write down everything I can. Apparently this world of Remnant has monsters surrounding the four countries: Vale, Atlas, Mistral, and Vacuo. These monsters only serve to hunt down and kill humans, and resemble earth creatures. They're all black shadows of death.

Beowolves resemble wolves, except for the sparse bone armor across their bodies. They're the most agile. Boarbatusks resemble a cross between a pig and an armadillo, with large curved tusks and armored hides that are plated so that they can roll up into balls and roll over people. Ursai are giant bears with large spikes sticking out of their back plating. Essentially: Agility, Speed, and Strength monsters, respectively.

There are also higher level Grimm. Nevermores are the birds…that can shoot feathers from their wings like machine guns. Deathstalkers are giant scorpions. King Taijitus are large snakes with a black and white half, connected together in the same manner as the Cat-Dog cartoon. Creeps are armored bipedal things with short forearms. Essentially a small T-Rex. These things all apparently grow up as years go by, getting bigger and gaining more armor plating. That's not disturbing at all.

And apparently "Hunters" fight back those forces. People who somehow reach the ability to do insane shit like run up walls and propel themselves through the power of bullets. And run super fast. Or explode. Or control the elements. Or shoot lightning. Or convert kinetic energy into a deadly power up. You get the point. Also, Dust is not referring to the dead skin cells that flake off of people every day. Dust refers to crystals that contain the power of the elements within them. This world…this future is insane.

"Hey, Brandon," someone whispers to me during the lunch break. I turn my head to see the girl who sits in the desk next to mine. A woman in the female version of the school uniform, with long blonde hair held back with a purple ribbon. I raise my eyebrow in question. "You seem a little lost here. Maybe you could use a friend. I'm Janna."

"Brandon, but you already knew that," I smirk as I shake her outstretched hand.

"You're from the outlands, huh? That must've been interesting." I pause before thinking of a proper reply.

"Not as interesting as I'm finding this place," I answer. Janna appraises my response for a second before nodding a sort of agreement.

"So, there's a sports club meet after school. You in?"

"Sure. Why not?" I shrug. Janna flashes a smile as the bell rings for class to pick up again.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N some clarifications are in order, apparently (this is what happens when you write out stories at 2 in the morning). Janna is not related to Jaune in any fashion beyond a similar name. I just needed one and stumbled upon it, and neglected to check it against the story/universe for mix-ups. Also this is set in a civilian school (Brandon having never heard of Hunters until "teacher" gave a quick rundown exposition of Remnant to him). My mistake.**

/

Janna and I enter the sports meeting, which is really just the gym with each sports team or club lining the floor, trying to gather up the freshmen and prospective athletes into their own clutches. I notice a shining thin blade laid out on a nearby table.

"You have fencing here?" I gingerly pick up the foil from one of the tables of the sports meet. From what I'd gathered, it's only a few days into the spring semester, meaning that—at least on Remnant—the season of fencing, bowling, and basketball has begun. It's a bit strange to see a weapon nearly identical to the practice set I have—had—back home, here in this alternate reality.

"Did you not expect it? Us civilians just _love_ playing Hunter," Janna waves her hand around to emphasize her own negative opinion on the concept. "Even though we could never hope to achieve such a thing."

"I can understand why," I flourish the blade before dropping into a starting position. It's been years since I've truly trained up the skill, but I still remember some of it. "Sometimes it's nice to fall into a fabricated reality. The real world can suck." Janna still seems fixated on my nonchalant handling of the foil.

"I'm guessing you're going to try for the fencing club?" she crosses her arms and raises her brow.

"I might as well," I return the demonstration weapon onto its small presentation stand before glancing at the roster machine. It takes a quick scan around the entire room to realize that all I have to do is swipe my newfound handy-dandy expandy Scroll thing across the surface of the screen to submit my information to the tryouts roster. "I'm sure I'll do fine."

/

 _This is_ not _as easy as I remember!_ I internally grimace…and probably externally as well, not that one would be able to tell behind the mask. I sidestep with a parry from my opponent's own aggressive lunge.

"Go Brandon!" Janna cheers from the side. The sports teams had sectioned off empty spaces throughout the school for simultaneous tryouts, so luckily there were only the other fencers in the room. Fencers who knew how to go hard.

I play defensively as I feel my knowledge of bladework slowly return to me. I manage to flick away an overhead strike, and move for a smack to my opponent's side opposite the direction I sent his blade, but I have to return it into a block with the handguard to avoid losing a point. His recovery is fast. The two of us separate from the short bout so that we're a few meters apart.

 _Over, left, parry, right, counter, return ,feint_ , I run through the commands for my body as I swing my left hand to my will. Luckily, this activity isn't too hard on my right side, or I'd be bleeding all over again. It's also been a week or two since I stumbled into Junior's club, so my body's definitely on its way to sewing itself back up. On the feint for a lunge, my opponent instinctively swipes his blade across his body in defense, but my wrist is already in progress of twisting the energy into a strike against his now-exposed back. My blade swings back around the fulcrum of my wrist, passing just over my own head before the flourish comes down on my opponent's side.

This is hard-countered by his own quick recovery again, with handguard striking handguard as he closes the distance in an attempt to disorient me. I manage to lean back as I retreat, pulling my blade into my body and having it point straight up so that his own foil scrapes against it, never touching my uniform. This sort of battle continues until he finally lunges again.

With no holds barred, I twist my body parallel to the blade's path, using my own to block its tip from touching me. I twist up and over myself in a rapid waterfall moving backwards, keeping some part of my blade in contact with his at all times to avoid a collision. By the time I'm facing him again, my arm is twisted so be above my head, the right-side parry being held upside-down. _Thwap_.

My foil drops from its guard of the lunge and swipes against his shoulder just as he begins to pull away from his attack. He must've over-extended, given his fast reaction time. Either way, it worked. The captain calls the point to me, and tells me that I can sit down and watch the other prospective fencers step up to the challenge.

My opponent drops into the seat next to meet with a thud, unclipping the back of his mask and removing it. He brushes back his medium-brown hair with his hand and lets out a sigh. Golden eyes catch my attention, but then again this world has evolved to have a second variation of humans that have _animal traits_ and aren't horribly ridden with genetic malfunction. And some humans can fly at will. So, golden eyes? Not the most outlandish thing ever. "Man, it's been a while since I've been bested by a rookie. But I'm guessing you've had some experience before."

"Some," I inform, one hand against my right side. While not enough force was exerted for blood to start leaking, the twist required for that final move definitely felt funny. Luckily, my position makes it passable that I'm just resting my arm across my stomach. "Haven't touched a foil in years, but it felt good." Something…different…to get the blood pumping. I can't believe I'd dropped the track team and the fencing club for…the life I had before my not-death. Maybe it's time I took some of that back.

"That finishing move, though? That was amazing," Janna pumps her fist before holding it up for a high five. I hit my palm to hers before turning back to golden boy. _Technically that move doesn't exist in fencing. I'm surprised the captain allowed it._

"I'm Ness, by the way. Ness von Carter," the boy flashes a smirk and holds out a fist to be bumped.

"Brandon Jerrit," I give a **similar** expression as I tap my knuckle to knuckle.

"You're that new kid, right?" At this, I raise my brow. He explains quickly. "Word in this school travels fast."

"Yeah, I'm not from around here," I shrug.

"Well, the best way to get introduced to new friends is by trying to stab them in the face with a flimsy metal stick, eh?" Ness laughs at his own joke and gestures to the two opponents currently on the cleared floorspace. I join him in the joviality, Janna rolling her eyes. "The second best way is to go to a party. You know the Vytal Festival, right?"

"Nope."

"At all?"

"Nope."

"Okay, outlander: The Vytal Festival is a bi-annual celebration among the four Kingdoms. It's a big cultural event. There's this big dance. Beacon, the Valean Hunter Academy, has one, and every large-scale civilian school has one as well. You should go, bring your blonde friend."

"M-maybe," I consider it. While it might be good to be social, I'm still in a strange state of limbo with the whole thing. I'm still grieving every night over the loss of Macy. The Malachite twins at Junior's club have no problem watching me suffer and drown myself in sorrow. On the upside, they don't make it worse, either. I guess it wouldn't be the worst thing if I were to try and distract myself with a dance. Junior wants me to drive some product, anyway, and what better time than a high school social event?

/

 **A/N And I will then ignore the Dance in lieu of something else.**

 **You might've noticed a small cue or two as to what direction this story is headed in. Let's see where it takes us.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Oops I missed a response from last time. That's what happens when you try to write these in full in advance I guess. But also the time skippy thing+narrative summaries episodic style of writing is going to encompass most of this middle ground until we reach a new turning point. AKA, summary of timeskip, main event of the chapter, aftermath. Rinse, repeat, end.**

 **Moloty: I guess the previous fencing scene follows a similar concept, but oh boy it just had to happen eventually so why not now? I mean he's already surrounded by cleaver gun things. Or at least I assume they're cleaver gun things. Everything's also a gun. Your wife is also a gun. My cereal is also a gun. This rocket launcher is also a gun.**

/

"Spare some change?" someone in a large and extremely unkempt overcoat inquires as I pass him by. I ignore him entirely in favor of checking my Scroll idly. To be honest, I'm still getting used to the little hydraulic force this thing puts out every time I double-tap the unlock button. One tap lights up the collapsed screen, and two taps makes the thing expand. My old phone doesn't do that. Actually, my old phone doesn't do anything, since Militia accidentally sliced it in half when it decided to go off for my "morning" alarm. I'm just glad I managed to get most of the files off of it before it truly died.

I turn the corner, glad to be out of earshot of the tinkling of change in a tin can. Walking still feels funny with the injury to my side. Remnant medicine is something else, as it's definitely healed faster, but there's still shooting pains whenever I extend myself just a bit too far. Flesh is still patching itself up, but at least the bandage is more of a precaution than a necessity now. My Scroll goes off again. Janna and Ness in the group chat. We've been talking for a few weeks now, helping me assimilate fully into this alternate world. I've decided to just refer to it as a different world. The only things that's directly relatable are humankind, air composition, and the basic animals and plantlife. I'm stuck here, regardless, and if I keep referring to it as a future version of Earth, I'll probably get in trouble by acting on Earth logic when it doesn't apply. Ness posted another funny cat video. I roll my eyes at Janna's cat emoji reply on the screen, pocketing the device and walking into Junior's club. And I'm met with the sight of white suits and navy-blue shirts...all meandering around the club and turning things over as Junior stands at the bar with his forehead against his palm. He looks more bothered than anything else. Two of the blues turn to me, clunky pistols in their hands. One of them notices the weapons bag on my back and points her pistol at waist-height towards me, before gesturing behind the bar.

 _What the shit_ , I roll my eyes, sauntering over to Junior's location. "So, what's happening with these new kiddos?"

"I'm waiting on the wonder twins," Junior mumbles. "They went on a shopping trip, and that's when the Blue Diamonds thought they could invade the Red Knives. We'll see how that goes."

"I can't really be of much assistance," I sigh. The only things I have on me are my fencing foil and a brown bag of weed, so…

"Stick to the shadows: Strike when you can," Junior's eyes glance down to a compartment behind the bar. A funky looking cylinder is there, about the length of a leg, with a heavy handle sticking out one end. "I can sense the twins' Auras. Be ready, kid."

 _Auras?_ I move my foot to be under the cylinder in the compartment. The second I hear glass breaking I pull my leg up, flicking the cylinder right into Junior's hands before ducking under the bar. From my position, all I can see is the cylinder's body open up into an over-the-shoulder cannon. The sound of a rocket follows Junior pulling the trigger. The explosion rocks the building and peoples' screams prelude the beginning of a messy fight.

I keep under cover to the sound of gunfire and…sword slashes? One of the Diamonds lands with a hard crack into the alcohol collection beside me, slumping to the floor with a grimace. Cracked bottles leak flammable intoxication over him as the weapon in his hand falls from his palm. He appears to still be conscious. _Thud_. And now he's not. I retract my foot from his head and grab the weapon that skittered to the floor. One of those clunky pistols, with white and silver outer shell pieces and a metallic blue main body. I duck behind the bar again and fiddle with the thing. Never used one before, here or back home.

I press a lever on the opposite side of the gun as the safety, and suddenly all that clunkiness on the pistol expands and shifts…into a horizontal-grip blade. Like an epee fencing blade. I…can work with this, even if the width is more than I'd prefer. I mean, some pieces even flared outwards to create a miniscule handguard. I click the lever again and the extended barrel and blades collapse and condense back into the clunky pistol. I fire a test shot into a randomly-assigned target on the visible wall. Confident that I can at least do _something_ among the chaos, I turn the corner of the bar on one knee, locating a white jacket and firing.

The clip empties remarkably fast, leaving me with an empty gun-blade…thing. I flip the lever to give myself an epee blade again just as I hear the thuds of footsteps behind me. I spring to my feet and turn just in time to deflect a similar weapon. I guess ammo's running low. From the looks of it, my contribution didn't mean shit in the face of two brunette women with blades on their limbs, and a guy with a rocket launcher…bat?...thing. Seriously, Junior's swinging his rocket launcher around like a baseball bat.

 _Parry, overhead block, twirl, slash, retreat, slash-feint, flourish, lunge_ , I retract the blade from my opponent's abdomen, and toss the left-behind weapon to one of the Knives who seems to be just out of ammo from his…cleaver pistol thing. There are a lot of "turns-into-a-gun" things here. He catches the weapon with a nod of thanks before spinning and lashing upwards into the bicep of a Diamond preparing an overhead strike. I grimace at the blood before something knocks against my back. A hand grabs my disoriented form as the butt of a gun-blade hits the back of my hand and forces me to drop my own.

"Stop!" the voice someone behind my captor commands as a gun-blade is directed to my throat. I do my best to ignore the fact that every time I breathe out, my skin presses against the cold and bloody metal. Immediately, most of the fighters turn, weapons drawn on him…although with me in between him and them, it doesn't exactly give me any confidence.

 _Well, this is how I die…again_ , I grumble. Given time to really stop moving, now, I notice the feeling of bruises forming on my body and a few random cuts across my arms and torso. Great.

"You know what we want. Give us the Dust stone and we'll let your friend go," the supposed leader negotiates as the remaining Diamonds group up and point their pistols back at the Knives. Militia, Melanie, and Junior all stop in their tracks. Junior has his bat turned back into a rocket launcher, but he doesn't have it raised. He does, however, reach into his pockets.

"What, _this_ Dust stone?" he holds up a black crystal. "Come and get it." I catch the slightest indication of a nod from someone beside me, and the person holding me walks forward, a hard grip on the back of my sweatshirt as he digs his fist into my spine. Just as Junior and him meet halfway, Junior glances at me with a…mischievous eye. He also flicks his eyes upwards for an almost imperceptible second.

I put two and two together very quickly. I inch my right hand closer to the arm holding a blade to my neck. Once he sees that I got the message, Junior tosses the Dust stone into the air suddenly just as I grab arm with a blade to my throat and push it away from me. In all the confusion, it's no problem for me to slip out of my hoodie and drop to the floor as something detonates right above us. The crack of a skull informs me that Junior's bat landed a hit on my captor. When the fighting ends, I peek out from above my knees and realize that someone had dragged me into the corner at some point. And also that all my bravado had drained, leaving me in a ball on the floor.

"What was all that about?" I question Militia as she kicks debris around aimlessly.

"The Dust stone: Something a client of ours found in the outlands. He said he found it in Mountain Glenn," Militia pokes one of the unconscious Diamonds bodies with her foot. So far, it seems like it's an approximation of the mythological neutral Dust. Put it in a pot with some fire Dust, and it'll mimic it as long as it's in contact."

"Put it with some ice Dust, and it'll turn cold," Melanie continues. "It's density suggests a certain level of…raw power. Rumors spread fast, it seems." This Dust stone sounds like it acts like stem cells: Neutral until you surround it with something else. The difference here being that the Dust stone has multiple uses, rather than staying in one form or another.

"But Junior just blew it up," I remember.

"A fake, Brandon," Junior explains as he hands off the broom to one of the goons. "The amount of money you bring in as our drug and supply runner is important, but not _that_ important." I roll my eyes as Junior reminds me of my supposed worth in the grand scheme of things. I run a thumb across my neck, feeling the bumps of a scabbed over line. Man, I really need something besides a flimsy foil to keep me safe in this world. Wouldn't want a repeat of the last reality I lived in.

"Hey, can I…keep one of those weapons the Blue Diamonds left behind?" I gesture to a gun-blade on the floor.

"I don't see why not. You earned it," Junior gesture with his fingers to one of the goons, who packs up the weapon into a holster he takes from the belt of one of the dead Blue Diamonds. I cringe at the blood left on the cleaning rag the goon uses before laying the weapon at my feet.

It feels strange to pick up the killing tool, now that I'm not actually in danger, but it's good to have. Sure, I used this thing in the battle previously, but I didn't _kill_ anyone…necessarily. I just injured maybe two or so people. This world is apparently dangerous, especially the niche I've found myself in. I fiddle with the workings of the gun blade throughout the rest of the night, making sure I'm really used to the weight and feel of the shifting mechanisms. Luckily, the weight of the bullets in the gun-specific mechanism is in the handle, and makes little impact over the weapon's handling. It could use a recolor to be less…flashy. Maybe change the blues to reds, the whites to greys and blacks, and make the metals darker. _That actually would look pretty badass._ Maybe I can never really fight off anything important in Remnant, if it comes to that, but I can at least make whatever kills me remember me with a scar.

/

 **A/N Longer chapter, but nothing ridiculous. While it might seem like this is some major turning point, it really isn't. This is more just exposure: Brandon discovering the idea of aura (I imagine it would be a Hunters' secret, for safety of civilians trying to get their own and going ham with it, and because it seems like a strange thing to be public knowledge. In the context of this story, that interpretation serves to make Brandon stand out less as an anomaly, and one other to-be-announced purpose). The Dust stone thing isn't canon at all, but more of my creating conflict between the "Red Knives (made up name, obviously)" and "Blue Diamonds."**

 **There's one other main thing, of course: Brandon's running around with an it's-also-a-gun-blade. Of a rival gang. Even if he recolors it to match Junior's theme. I *cough* hope he doesn't run into anyone who would recognize the form. P.S. For an idea on how the pistol probably looks, take the Halo boltshot, and make the front of the gun capable of extending into a blade, with the barrel as a center point, and with some of the panels near the handle popping out sideways for the handguard. Brandon would've only found this "clunky" because, obviously on Earth, pistols only have one thing extending from the handle.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N "I *cough* hope he doesn't run into anyone who would recognize the [weapopn's] form," I say as I entirely subvert that hint for a quick interlude. Chapter six, let's do this. Time to go Spiderman on this story real quick because it's a major point that needs to happen. FFR the original idea involved a drug deal gone wrong.**

/

"All I'm saying is that you all are too obsessed with your technology," Janna shoves my shoulder lightly.

"Right, right, but technology is pretty fun," Ness rolls his eyes. I agree with his point. Honestly, though, the "amazing night sky" is actually nice. It is very pretty out, with the stars somehow visible and the…shattered moon…shining brightly. I'm still getting used to that image.

I look at the nearby convenience store, remembering something that Junior had asked me to do.

"I'm just gonna pop in, get some groceries. You two go on ahead," I jerk my thumb towards the convenience store as we pass it. It's supposed to be video game night. They still have video games on this world thing. I'm just glad one of my primary methods of entertainment is still here.

"Heyo, Drezno," I announce my entrance the second the door closes behind me.

"Oh, hey, Brandon," Drezno appears from the employee door, dropping a box behind the counter before leaning his arms on the counter. "What's up?"

"Boss wants his tax," I cross my arms and lean against the magazine column. "So, you're gonna give it."

"Already? It hasn't even been a month!" Drezno groans, leaning his head into his palms. "Look, I…business has been slow, alright? I-I can't pay it right now. Next week?"

"Junior wants it _this_ week," I shrug. "And _I_ surely can't argue with him. Unless you wanna try."

"I'm sorry, okay, but I can't pay it this week," Drezno pushes the stormclouds off his shoulder and moves to help the customer approaching the counter. I shake my head. Unfortunately, the destruction to the club a week ago left Junior in need of repairs. Repairs cost money, and money comes from tax collecting just as much as selling drugs or having people pay at the door to a club.

As I start to collect some snacks for my room back at the club, I hear the distinct sound of a gun being pulled. At this point, I'm unfortunately familiar with the noise. Frankly, it makes me want to curl up in a ball and die every time I hear it from someone that isn't me. I still wear collared shirts to cover up the line on my neck. I hide behind one of the shelves and look towards the register to see the situation. The man Drezno was serving has a gun drawn, demanding money. My hand moves to the clunky red pistol hidden by my jacket. I pause before I draw it, though. Is it really worth my time? Is it worth the possibility of getting shot at again?

 _Nope._ I straighten out my jacket and continue putting snacks into a basket, ignoring the proceedings to the best of my ability. The robber doesn't seem to care about me, so I won't make him. After all, Junior's tax is supposed to be payment for protection from events such as this, and…guess who didn't pay it. I also may or may not be a bit grouchy from having to run with a twenty pound bag of…substances…through the city yesterday in a joint job of both shaking the opposing faction from my tail and delivering it to a buyer who plans to transport the stuff to Vacuo.

"Well that was interesting," I throw one hand around flippantly as I toss the snacks into plastic bags and head for the door. The robber just left with all the money in Drezno's register, and I can still hear his heavy footsteps as he makes his escape. I turn in the opposite direction, ready to meet up with Janna and Ness again. That's when I hear the gunshots. Not the threat of gunshots, actual bullets flying. I instinctively flinch, images of a weapons being trained on me flashing through my mind.

I ignore the cold pang in my chest as best as I can, pushing myself back up to full height and jogging over with the rest of the crowd to investigate. The sound of screeching tires disappearing into the distance precedes my arrival on the scene. Said scene contains two bodies, a man and a woman who look…middle aged and terrified, even in death. Blood is leaking from both of their shirts. Terrible.

More terrible is a strange line of logic running through the back of my mind. If I'd just taken action against the robber, this might not have happened. There might not be two _dead innocent people_ on the sidewalk. My fingers brush against the impression of my weapon in my jacket. That pain in my chest spreads, beginning to wrack my body in the slightest of tremors.

I run. Nothing to it, I turn on my heel and sprint away. The rush of movement keeps everything from catching up to me at once, but I won't ignore the fact that my breaths are ragged and shaky. I collapse in an alleyway, dropping the two plastic bags at my feet as I curl up against the wall and hide my face against my knees. My bullet wound, and all the other bruises from the fight at Junior's club, start to throb in protest from the run, but I ignore it. At least I didn't _die_. Two people _died_ because I decided to be an asshole. Damn.

Like, I get to live in the fancy alternate reality afterlife thing after almost getting shot in the head due to a withdrawn druggie needing the fix he couldn't pay for, and I let two people get killed? Wow. I didn't do anything because Dave couldn't pay back then, and I didn't do anything now because Drezno couldn't pay Junior's increased tax interval increase. Terrible. I'm a terrible person.

My phone goes off in a series of explosive texts from Janna and Ness, who must've heard about the shooting and remembered that I was in the area. I gather up the strength to type out a reply that I'm safe and fine, but I'm really not. Is it raining? No. Why's my face wet?

I ignore the persistent buzzing of my Scroll, pulling my knees closer to my body and resting my forehead against them. Let sleep claim me and save me from this existential nightmare. When it doesn't come quickly enough, I stuff my hands in my pockets to warm them. They're shaking, so they're cold, right? This causes the rattling of the contents inside of an orange cylinder, waiting expectantly. Interesting.

/

 **A/N Savage. This is the climax of arc 1, I guess: Death by inaction. Also, drugs are bad, kids, mmkay?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Okay so after that feels trip, it's time to actually address a random high schooler walking the streets with a recolored** _ **gang weapon**_ **.**

/

I won't lie and say that I didn't take the bottle. I totally took the bottle and used it. Twice. Oh, sure I can shoot a gangster in the back and feel nothing, but I can let two innocent people get shot and I devolve into a sniveling mess. Great. Junior had found out and hit me, repeatedly, to try and snap me to my senses. Regardless of if I had a weapon, he said, the risk of getting shot is not my obligation.

Which makes sense. It still hurts, but at least I hadn't used habitually enough to actually be addicted. In time for the dance, too. And luckily, no one at school had noticed in the slightest, and my performance on the fencing team was perfectly fine. Ness and I continue to spar, and there's no shortage of a challenge there, with equal wins and losses on both sides. The dance is tomorrow, which is going to be a good way to distract my mind. But of course, first, I have to get other people addicted to the danger that I almost got sucked into. That's my job, after all.

Or not.

"This is ridiculous," I groan as I stare down four barrels. Normal guns. Guns that look like guns and stay guns. But still guns. I become increasingly aware of my own, waiting to be drawn from within my jacket, but I need an opportunity. Melanie had given me some training in how to effectively fight in hand-to-hand combat, and had mentioned this "aura" again, and how I was limited by not having it unlocked. Whatever it was, most other civilians that I'd seen don't have it either. Otherwise I'd be dead, probably…again. All I need is for one of them to come within an arm's reach.

Obviously, someone does, because they think it's necessary to pat me down to find what they want. The second the man taps against my gun-blade, and realizes it, I twist to the side and pull his wrist, forcing his firing arm to over-extend as he tries to pop a bullet in my abdomen. My elbow finds his own stomach before I knock the gun out of his hand and duck behind his body. In another short turn, I have his body held up with one arm, and my gun-blade to his throat, stopping any more than the two bullets fired from coming.

"If you really thought you could just kill me and take your fix for free, you're dead wrong," I shudder out, hoping that the guy I have captive doesn't notice my short of breath or shaky hands.

"A Diamond weapon," one of the other three realizes, glancing at my blade.

"Didn't the Company put a hit out on any Diamond head that was brought to them?" another one whispers. _A bounty on the Diamonds? Company? Another gang that I was uninformed about? Oh boy._

"Shoot. If we get him, it's worth it," the last one punctuates his sentence by redrawing a line of sight on me.

"Well, uh, _bye_!" I knee my captive in the back and bolt, quickly converting my weapon into its pistol form and firing as I run.

"There's a Diamond in the area! Get him!" one of the four yells, echoing out of the warehouse walls and into the street.

"Oh boy oh boy fuck everything," I let my legs go on automatic, carrying me out of the dilapidated and…charred…docks, and ducking under the fire of anyone who comes near me. Surprisingly enough, Melanie's training gives me enough instinct to suddenly drop to my knees to avoid a sideways baseball bat. I pop back to my feet and twirl with an extending blade, causing a major gash in the offender's side before I'm off again. Gunfire punctuates every step. My safety is decided as I grab hold of the end of the chain link fence and swing around it, dashing down the sidewalk and leaping onto the back of a semi-truck trailer. I quickly conceal my crimson gun-blade in fear. The sounds of people yelling and chasing me finally stop as the truck veers into distance. What. The. Fuck.

"You look dead," Junior remarks as I collapse into one of the barstools.

"No comment," I reply, remembering that, for all intents and purposes, I probably already died once before. I'm already dead inside, too, at this point, so yeah. I look dead. "Did you know that some gang called the Company put a bounty on the Blue Diamonds?"

"Never heard of them," Junior shrugs. "Why?"

" _That's_ why I look dead. Someone mistook this," I drop my repainted gun-blade onto the bar's surface, "For a Diamond weapon. They made the assumption that I _was_ a Blue Diamond, and I was fired on. Not that there weren't guns on me to begin with, since that group of ragtag druggies and vandalists decided they could just kill me and take what they wanted for free."

"It's the Dust Stone," Junior concludes after a short pause. "Whatever this 'Company' is must want it, and they know that one of the gangs in Vale has it. First they'll get everyone to kill the Blue Diamonds, then maybe the Green Emeralds, before getting the Yellow Suns, and coming to get us themselves. At that point they'd be bound to have the Dust Stone in their possession."

"Why wouldn't the Company know about us being in possession of it already, since the Diamonds at one point knew?"

"I don't know. Maybe we'll get lucky and be able to fight back before this gets out of hand. At the worst, one of the Diamonds will get captured and spill, and we'll have to fight sooner than expected."

"Well, either way, I got shot at. Again. It was fun. I feel like I'm dying, there's another graze of a bullet on my arm, and I have a school dance tomorrow." I point at the shredded cloth on my upper arm.

"I still don't know why you'd want to go to some crummy civilian school," Junior continues to wipe down glasses.

"A kid can have dreams and shit, okay?" I pocket my gun-blade again and drag myself to my bedroom upstairs. My thankfully sound-proofed room. No sounds to mistake for gunfire. No sounds at all that aren't my own.


	8. Chapter 8

"I was afraid you wouldn't show," Janna laughs after opening her front door. There's a corsage on her wrist, and the matching boutonniere on Ness' jacket lapel.

"What, and miss my two favorite dorks being disgustingly into each other?" I roll my eyes as I enter the foyer.

"We're only going together because you wouldn't step up to the plate," Ness reminds me. "And also because it's nice to have a partner for big social events like this. I'm surprised you didn't pick up anyone at all." My thoughts immediately flash to my girlfriend back home. After all the time I'd spent here, I'm still working on moving on from that. After all, I'm the only one from Earth who got ripped and tossed into this alternate reality-world thing. It's a bit difficult to refit your interests into Remnant terms. _"Oh, you know Twenty-One Pilots? No? Right…"_

"I was too busy to really concern myself," I wave it off. Too busy getting shot at and shooting and stabbing and all that other business. "So what are we waiting on, then?"

"Janna's dad wants to take photos of 'his special angel,'" Ness clutches his stomach as he laughs at the nickname. Janna's hand hits his chest in warning before the parents show up and take…way too many pictures of all of us together. Ah, the human constant: Parents will always fawn ridiculously over their children.

When we're finally freed, we make our way down to the dance hall. Accordingly with the rumors, it's on the same block as the "Beacon" party. Apparently, Beacon is the hunter school of Vale, with the large clock tower and its green light that I saw on my first day here. For the hunter schools, which are all gathered in Vale for the time being (for this Vytal Festival thing), this dance marks the introduction to the sort of festivities involved with the tournament. They're going off on shadow missions in the next following days with fully-licensed Huntsmen before coming back to Beacon and preparing for the tournament.

For civilian schools, it's just an excuse to party. Evident by the loud music. While the lighting might be dim and neutral, the sounds and flashing strobes immediately evoke the presence of Junior's club to me. I feel myself stand a little taller, adopting the persona I usually use within the club in order to come off as an actual employee. Ness and Janna stick around, as our little ragtag trio is pretty strong. When a slow song starts, though, I let them have their fun. Dating or not, they're still adorable. I default to the punch bowl.

And realize that, even the other nerds around the punch bowl have friends to talk to. I roll my eyes, making short small talk with those present. Most notable is this ginger girl with shoulder length straight hair, pulled up into a braided bun to reveal the undercut she has going on. We talk for a bit, but before I can accidentally get lost in her multicolored blue and green eyes, I excuse myself. I parade around the dance hall for a while, soaking up all the sounds and energy. At the same time, it's good to get some fresh air.

As I stroll through the garden out back, I glance up at another building on the opposite end of the garden. With the night air, it's quite beautiful. I can see white streamers poke out from the balcony exits on the second floor of the other building. I pause by the white carnations in the garden, taking in their beauty. A short exchange occurs above me, which I can't help but follow. The cacophony of the two different halls' music tastes clashing within the garden grounds is ignored as I listen in.

"I guess what I'm saying is, I wanted to go with you, Jaune," the beautiful girl in the red dress with equally crimson hair turns and leaves the balcony. This leaves one kid with bright blonde hair alone on the balcony, and he sighs, turning away from the woman who just left and leaning his elbows on the balcony railing. His eyes look up at the moon, which is clear and vibrant today, before the cerulean orbs travel down and land on me, twiddling awkwardly with a carnation after seeing the exchange above me. I catch his glance.

This friendly yet…strained…smile is flashed as he waves down to me. I return the gesture, standing to my full height so that I can more easily look him in the eye…even forty feet away. Before I turn to walk across the garden and back to my own school's dance, I can't help but notice the sudden change to a furrowed brow and pursed lip as "Jaune" keeps his eyes focused on my back. Isn't it ironic that Jaune means yellow, and he has the most vibrant yellow hair around? With the matching trim on his suit as well? Talk about color coordination, it's like he's a TV show character or something.

I hear a sigh from the balcony, if only barely, as I meander through the garden. With the night sky and the landscape, I'd almost rather stay here, but Ness and Janna would worry about me. That Lily girl would, too, since I'd somehow been roped into promising her a dance. As I reenter the dance hall, that Jaune character sticks in the back of my mind. What was that expression? Thinking? Pension?...Recognition, even, if I think about it. What changed, in those ten seconds?

I push these thoughts aside, as within a minute, a soft hand curls around my own and pulls me onto the dance floor. Lily. This spontaneous girl here, in a red dress with a waist-ribbon flowing behind the knee-length main skirt. I guess I really made an impression, judging from her wide smile that wasn't present before I started talking to her. I decide against worrying about some random kid who I barely even noticed to begin with, letting myself become absorbed in the multi-layered eyes of the girl before me, and the small golden cat ears atop her head that flick left and right to follow random sources of sound. The chaperones start to usher the students out of the dance hall as the midnight hour approaches, which forces Lily and I to break contact. A single slow dance, and yet so much was discussed and made free knowledge in that short time.

If ever there was someone who knew how to hide their pain, it was Lily. Apparently, the faunus go through a great deal of trouble, and hers come from her own household. The only reason I was told any of this is because she was able to recognize similar home troubles in me. Residual, I guess, from my time on Earth. Or maybe it's all the insanity in my life manifesting into my mannerisms that she picked up on.

Either way, it's an amazing feeling, to have someone to relate to at all. We exchange Scroll numbers before Lily pecks my cheek and skips into the night. I can't help but hold a hand to the side of my face in awe for a bit. I guess Ness was right, sometimes you just need a partner to make an average night a great one.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N Now that the sap is out of the way, let's kill some things. Or try to.**

/

"The sky is so pretty," Lily sighs as she glances up at the clouds. Somehow her hand had slipped into mine…not that I minded at all. A good movie, some lunch, and now a relaxing stroll through Vale. It's only been a few days after the Dance—only a few days since I even met this girl—but it feels like it's been longer. Late nights spent in an almost continuous conversation with her. It's…actually not surprising that we transitioned to this unofficial relationship status in that time. Neither of us really have the confidence to address it or make it official.

"That's true," I feel a smile creep onto my lips as I look at the same formations and colors. In the late afternoon sun, the light streaks into an awesome pattern that resembles a sweeping flame. "Just like a certain someone I know."

"Oh, stop," Lily giggles, waving the compliment off with her free hand. "But seriously, that movie was amazing! Never thought I'd like action as much as I do horror movies."

"Oh, you're a horror fan?" I raise a brow, hoping that the tightening of my hand around hers isn't noticeable.

"Yeah, I just love the thrill," she spreads her arms. "It makes life a bit more exciting…appreciable. Because you never know when some shit might happen, and you get to relish in the fact that we live in the safety of the city."

"They honestly terrify me halfway to hell and back," I lower my head. Plus, is this city _really_ safe, considering recent developments?

"Aw, well I'll just have to keep you comforted so that you don't have a heart attack," Lily leans her head on my shoulder briefly. I notice a few glances from people we pass on the street. Some seem disgusted at the PDA. Others seem happy to see two people together. Others seem disgusted directly at Lily. I let the pang in my heart at the discrimination reside. It's not worth starting a problem over if they don't make any actual gesture or remark.

"I guess," I shrug as we enter a small coffee shop. After we get our drinks, we move out to the town square and sit down on the steps, relaxing and watching the sun descend in the sky. That is, until Lily's ears perk up. I study her sudden concentration for a moment before speaking. "Is something wrong?"

"Did you feel that?" At this, I focus my senses, trying to discern anything out of the ordinary. Right before I shake my head in the negative, the slightest vibration passes under my feet, stopping soon after.

"Y…yeah," I raise an eyebrow and glance at the floor. After another few seconds, another tremor. More noticeable this time. Both of us make to stand as another one hits. At this point, most of the other people in the crowded square seem to have become aware of it as well.

"Just what is going on?" Lily purses her lips together as other people voice their own questions.

 _Earthquake? No, those things kind of just happen._ Another tremor, more powerful. Part of my senses tell me that it's closer. Closer? How does that work? A major rumble runs through the town square, upsetting some of the stonework and causing a small crack down the steps.

"Time to go," I pull Lily along as we start to leave the center. Not that it does much in lieu of the _flying rocks and explosions and shit_. A small piece of debris collides with my shoulder, and both of us drop to the sidewalk, scraping our knees and elbows. I turn to try and figure out what's going on, noticing _motherfucking Grimm_ parading around the town square.

They're on the move as well, slowly taking in their new surroundings and spreading out tentatively. At the center of the wreckage appears to be a…train? Popping up from beneath the earth, the mangled wreck seems to have given way to the flood of Grimm that are now in the city. There are also four girls slowly coming to their senses in the middle of the destruction, tiny shards of ice melting around them.

"That doesn't seem good," Lily pulls me to my feet and flattens against a wall as the other people around us run away. I'd been stupid enough to run in the general direction of a dead end, so now we're trapped inside of a no-escape alleyway. The Grimm chase out the people, a few of them catching their prey and slaughtering them. I pull Lily's head against my chest to shield her from the gore. I watch as the four girls, colored in red, white, black, and yellow, stand up and unfurl their weapons. A giant red scythe, a fencing rapier with a revolving chamber in the hilt, a cleaver-sword-pistol-thing, and arm/fist gauntlets. With guns sticking out. After the blonde fires a round into the concentration of black fur, it's clear that it's a shotgun mechanism. Shot-gauntlets. Cool.

The four girls, clearly a team, set to work, flipping and swinging their weapons with practiced ease and urgency, destroying many of the Grimm before starting to get pushed back by the creatures' focus. As a King Taijitu looms over one of them, someone _falls out of the sky_ and slams a hammer into its head, making its body deflate and crush a shop underneath its mass. Oh.

I peek my head out to follow the ginger's flight path. She lands among three other people. An Asian (if that term still applies in Remnant) man with long hair and a green coat, and two very familiar characters: The blond boy and the red-haired girl from the balcony at the dance. The woman, now clad in bronze armor, raises her hefty sword in the air before everyone charges off into the fray again. Jaune seems annoyed at the speed and efficiency of his teammates before running down as well. He ends up very close to our position. After he…fearfully…slices up an Ursa Major and lets it collapse, he relishes in his victory a little bit too long.

Another one raises its paw behind him, not that anyone seems to notice. His partner, who was previously watching over him, has gotten overwhelmed by more Grimm so that she can't do anything.

"Watch out!" Lily shouts from the alley. Jaune reacts somewhat slowly to the warning, turning in a stumble since he was busy catching his breath from his initial kill. His hasty block makes him fall to the ground, his weapons clattering a short distance away. The Ursa looms over the boy, drawing a clawed limb back to strike. Time seems to slow down as multiple decisions run through my head. The obligation of those who can to act. The results of the last time, when I didn't. The couple in the car. Gunshots. Screaming. The sound of actual screaming in the present time pulls me from my day-nightmare.

"Screw this," I step out from the alley, drawing my crimson gun-blade in its pistol form and taking aim in the same stance I use for fencing. My face turns from fearful to steeled as I raise the weapon to the Ursa's head and let loose five shots. This distracts the Ursa, but now it turns to face me…annoyed by my presence more than anything. Two other smaller Grimm seem to have noticed me now as well, taking my use of a weapon as a threat. They all stalk towards me now. I catch Jaune's contorted look of confusion and thanks as I step back from the Grimm facing me.

"Well. Shit."

/

 **A/N And so, the beginning of the changes from canon really begin. This is still a moderately short story, so in the full scope of things this doesn't change much. Probably by the end of this the only major change to Remnant within this story will be the idea of the Dust Stone and the 4-way gang violence in the Underground. Or at least that's the hope.**


	10. Chapter 10

"Well. Shit," I lower my weapon slightly at the prospect of being hunted down and mauled by the terrors of the night…while its only late afternoon. I back up, unfortunately stepping in the wrong direction and having my back collide with a store façade rather than continuing into the alleyway from which I came. Sensing their advantage, the Grimm charge me: A Beowolf, the Ursa, and this bipedal thing. I think I remember the teacher referring to it as a "Creep."

I enter a defensive stance, letting what combat training I do have flow through me. The Creep charges first. Since the thing only has a large biting head and a tail as a weapon, I find it easily within my grasp to be able to step to the side and swing the blade upwards as it passes, trying to twist its head to bite my arm. The blade hitches on multiple points along the Creep's body, but the cut is enough to at least make the Grimm slow down. The Beowolf leaps at me.

I run backwards, switching the gun-blade to its pistol form and firing the remaining five shots towards the Beowolf. It also doesn't necessarily fall, but it's limping and one eye is bleeding black. This attracts more Grimm towards me, though. The ones not preoccupied with the Huntresses now turn to me. The original Ursa barreling towards me lets loose a roar as it approaches, making fear sting my heart and freeze my legs.

Right before the thing can headbutt me through a wall, a moderate yell pierces the din, and a sword slashes upwards along the Ursa's neck. The head falls to the floor. I snap to attention and notice Jaune back on his feet, sword and shield in hand. He drops back, raising his shield as the Creep, recovered from my slash across its body, tries to slam against it. The monster rebounds, stumbling on its feet before a scythe bisects it.

"What the…?" I start to question, although secretly glad for the save. The next thing I know, small arms wrap around my waist and a sudden force of speed takes over.

"Hang on, citizen!" a childish female voice announces as the world becomes a blur of motion. The scent of rose petals reaches my nose as the energy suddenly stops, with me being thrown from whatever vehicle had carried me. I roll across the floor before stopping on my back, looking up at the grimm-infested sky. Groaning, I pull myself to my feet. I notice that I'm no longer on the street level, but on top of a building. Lily yelps from the alleyway before she, too, is deposited on the rooftop.

"Stay here, okay?" the little girl with the red cape and the giant rifle-scythe appears at the edge with a mock salute and a strangely innocent smile before she blurs out of existence, a trail of rose petals the only indicator of her direction.

"I'll say it," Lily speaks up, standing next to me and wrapping a hand around mine. "What the fuck?"

/

"Are you two okay?" the crimson reaper inquires, walking up to the parked ambulance. Lily and I have our legs hanging out the back as the paramedics finish looking us over. Nothing besides a few bruises and scrapes. Some are from the girl throwing me on the roof, but some must've just happened from close calls with the Grimm.

"Yeah, we're fine," I inform her, resting a hand on Lily's shoulder for reassurance.

"That's good to hear. I'm Ruby. Ruby Rose," she sticks her hand out to both of us. I take the initiative in returning the gesture.

"Brandon Jerrit," I give her my name as well.

"Well, Brandon, you've got a really nice kit-weapon here," Ruby produces my red gun-blade, handing it over with both hands underneath it. "I can't say I've seen many…uh…I think Weiss called it a pistol-grip…thing."

"Thanks…?" I take the weapon back with a nod, slipping it into my jacket.

"But you're not a Hunter-in-training or anything? I noticed while I was carrying you that you had no aura," Ruby sheepishly questions.

"No, I just…my parents were big on self-defense," I shrug as I struggle to find an appropriate excuse.

"Ah. Well, glad to see you two are okay. I should get back to my team now, though. It was nice meeting you!" Ruby waves excitedly before dashing off again. I barely have time to begin to form my response before I realize she's gone. After some chats, and convincing Lily to not mess with the gun-blade, her parents show up to bring her back home. They both thank me for keeping her safe during such an explosive incident, and I take the regard in stride. Lily gives me another peck on the cheek before taking off. While I'm still contemplating just what I have with her, a familiar blonde walks up to me.

"Hey…Brandon, right?" Jaune gives a short wave.

"That's me," I answer.

"Can you walk?" he jerks his head to the side, indicating a want to have a more private conversation. I comply, hopping to my feet and abandoning the "shock blanket" in the ambulance. At this point, with all the other shit I've put up with, "shock" isn't exactly my most prevalent problem. After we're clear of any other people in the area, confirmed by Jaune's scoping glances around the secluded side of a building, he sighs and leans against the wall.

"I see a little silhouette-oh of a man," Jaune sings nonchalantly. The phrase instantly clicks in my head. My eyes widen and I take a step back, immediately drawing my gun-blade again and leveling it with Jaune's head. He flinches, but visibly tries to hide it, quickly returning to a calmer demeanor.

"How do you know that?" I narrow my eyes at the armored kid. He gives a short chuckle in response.

"Because," he gives a playful grin as he turns his head towards me. Blue eyes flash in this sort of knowing as they lock on to my own pupils. "I'm one of you. An Earth-born."

/

 **A/N Dun dun dun~! Remember when I said Jaune had an interesting role in this story? Let the (honestly really short) games begin.**


	11. Chapter 11

"I'm one of you. An Earth-born." Jaune pushes himself off the wall and takes a step towards me. In my shock, I don't really react with anything more than confusion as he gingerly pushes my gun-blade away from him.

"Earth…born?" I let my weapon lower, although it's still ready in my hands.

"Someone from Earth, who comes so impossibly close with death, and then gets whisked away to this alternate reality. An Earth-born. I'm guessing you had something like that?" the blonde questions, more friendliness seeping into his tone. Empathy.

"Y-yeah. Did that happen to you, too?" I question him as he starts walking aimlessly through the less-occupied streets. I pocket my weapon and start to follow. The sounds of crowds and media outlets trying to breach the large perimeter surrounding The Breach reach our ears, but we both ignore it.

"People here will tell you that my name's Jaune Arc. The real name is Jonah Kolanowski," he answers. The name somehow sounds familiar. "I've been here maybe a year at best."

"A few months," I respond to the unspoken question, although I can feel myself becoming distant in thought. Surprise. I'm not alone, but at the same time, everything I thought I knew just got flipped up. This world had many earth-born? In the back of my mind, a short internet post pops up into my head. J _ohn had blue skin and wore a mask. Julie had blue skin and wore a mask. They went their whole lives in search of someone like them, never once knowing they both had passed someone else with blue skin_. "So how…? What is…everything?"

"This? Remnant? It's a second chance at life," Jaune/Jonah gestures to the sky. "Or at least, that's my guess. I honestly thought I was in a coma or something at first, but…then I realized that this place is complex and beyond my imagination. Plus, I noticed a kid walking through a garden with no Auratic presence."

"Yeah, how _did_ you know that I was a…Earth-born?" I question. It seems strange that he could tell after just a look, and be so confident in it to pull me aside and start quoting Earth song lyrics.

"Your entire lack of Aura. There's a fine difference between not having it unlocked and not having it at all. The father of the Arc household, the family that took me in, was an Earth-born. He taught me how to tell. Told me that showing up on his lawn in the state that I was in meant that I must've been destined to try to become a hero, a Hunter. He wanted me to go through official channels and train up, but I…I was impatient, and stumbled my way into Beacon instead."

"So you go to Beacon, but you're an Earth-born? But then how do you have an Aura?" I question, remembering Junior's mention of the Hunters' tool. Something I lack entirely, apparently.

"I have no clue," Jaune shrugs. "I actually…didn't…know what Aura was until halfway through Beacon's initation. I didn't know that I had one until my partner unlocked it for me. I died in a fire, holding some stranger's little girl in my arms and shielding her from the flames. We were trapped. My last wish was to protect. To be a hero to that child. And now here, I've been given a chance to strive to be one." The blonde shrugs, looking up wistfully. He must've had an okay life before landing here. "What about you?"

"I got shot by a withdrawn drug addict," I purse my lips and glance at the ground. "I just wanted to survive."

"And that would explain why you don't have an Aura," he concludes. "I'm still trying to figure it out, myself."

"Interesting. So, what's our purpose here?" I wonder aloud after a pause.

"I don't know. What's the purpose of any form of life? We don't know, but we certainly search for it," Jaune sighs. "It's certainly a more lively existence than Earth, huh?" I can't help but chuckle at that. The last few hours have definitely showcased that idea.

"Yeah, I guess so." We pause as we round the corner, facing the whole group of students and civilians and medics again.

"Oh, by the way, did anything change in the last year before you arrived on Remnant?" Jaune asks me.

"Are you from America?" I raise an eyebrow. He nods. "You know that old guy who hosted that show 'The Apprentice?'" Another nod. "He's running for President as the Republican candidate."

"God help us all," Jaune brings a hand to his mouth.

"Not our problem anymore," I shrug before stretching out my arms. "But yeah nothing major has really happened. Terrorists are still being used to demonize the entire Muslim population, Fox News still sucks, school is still boring as all hell." Jaune laughs at that last statement.

"Not at Beacon. Something crazy happens every day," he sighs. "It's a good feeling, though. Reminds me that I'm alive. Keeps me on my toes."

"True."

"We should exchange Scroll numbers. Could always be good to know a fellow Earth-born," Jaune produces his device. I take out my own Scroll and we get each other's numbers before we separate. I begin the walk back to Junior's club.

"What. A. Day," I look up at the setting sun, its rays highlighting the moon on the opposite side. Its shattered façade is already making itself known today.

/

 **A/N A really short chapter for this section, mainly because I don't really know how to play this section. The revelation partially serves as an explanation for Jaune's general clueless behavior in the show (not knowing what Aura is, or who Pyrhha is, or mindlessly thinking he can join a secondary Hunter school without any prior training, or seeming unsure of his own stories sometimes etc.). It also reveals the purpose of this story, in a way.**


	12. Chapter 12

Jaune and I have been texting back and forth for a short time now, in the past few days. He's been telling me stories about his time on Earth, as well as how insane Beacon can be. After the Breach, all Valean schools had a three-day break tacked on to the weekend. That. Now that was a good feeling. On the last day, I'm waiting at the Beacon airstrip for Jaune and his team to show up. I decided to take the extra time to fly up to meet him at his school, in part because I wanted to see that clock tower from a bit closer…or a lot closer, considering the distance between a random spot in the city and being on an airstrip on Beacon property.

"Hey, Brandon," Jaune waves to me as his team strolls up. The Asian man, walking with his hands loosely held behind his back. The short-haired ginger, skipping along. The red-haired girl, striding with a level of practiced yet casual elegance. And Jaune. He called them as a unit "Juniper" for some reason.

"Yo," I give a mock salute, tapping my index and middle fingers to my temple. "Ready to go?" We all pile into the airship before it takes off, and introductions go around as the plane starts to creak to life and start meandering through the skies.

"Pyrhha Nikos," the redhead holds out her hand to shake, a courteous smile gracing her lips. I return the gesture with a casual smirk of my own.

"Brandon Jerrit."

"Lie Ren," the Asian man greets, giving a curt nod to acknowledge my presence.

"Nora!" the ginger springs up between us with her arms held high and a rambunctious smile on her face. I can't help but chuckle at the antics.

"Nice to meet you all," I smile, turning and looking down at the city. "The few months I've been here and the view from above still amazes me."

"It is quite lovely. Vastly different than what we have back in Mistral," Pyrhha agrees. Jaune's malcontented groan catches in his throat, but considering he's sitting next to me, I still hear it.

"Don't like the view?"

"Airships are fine and all. It feels like a floating car ride. But looking outside? Makes me more than just queasy," he admits sheepishly, rubbing his neck.

"Dude, I get what you mean. A bit of motion sickness, coupled with some vertigo, probably murders the weaker stomachs," I shrug. I don't miss the huff from Jaune/Jonah at my remark.

"It's not that bad, just a pit in my stomach. Unless I look outside," Jaune sighs. I don't miss the slightest concerned look flash across Pyrhha's face.

"Aw, he's just a scaredy-butt," Nora laughs and waves it off. "During the Breach he jumped out of a Bullhead no problem!"

"That's different, Nora," he attempts to correct. "Somehow."

"Being controlled by gravity and being controlled by a giant flying metal box are quite different," I offer. Jaune nods his head to this in agreement. When we land, Lily, Janna, and Ness are waiting for us.

As we all hang out, I notice the ease of interaction between the two groups. The only cause for concern is Ness and Janna both fangirling over Pyrhha Nikos, which I don't really understand. They try to convince me of some credentials, but I still don't recognize them beyond the fact that "Tournament Champion" sounds impressive. Four times, even more so. A lot of the conversations are geared towards the idea of Hunters, how they protect and keep the peace. Jaune has his own little hero spiel, but it seems somewhat toned down for the purpose of saving face on how much he actually believes in it.

It still resonates with me. All the talks about being a good person. Lately I'd noticed it in myself, too. I'm not as abrasive as I might've been originally. I actually think about others, like Lily and Jaune in particular. It's so much different than how I ended up before I died on Earth. This second chance world, I don't really deserve it. But, I can work towards redeeming myself. I can make myself earn it.

The first thing I should probably do is stop selling drugs to idiots. Yeah.

/

"I'm sorry, but no," Junior replies in a not-exactly-apologetic tone as he keeps his back turned and continues wiping down the bar. From below the short platform, I give an exasperated sigh.

"But why? Surely by now I've paid back my own debt," I remind him. "I'm just a kid. It's not like I know any specifics about your underground besides the people who I sold to."

"Things are escalating around here, kid," he glances over his shoulder. "Remember the systematic wiping out of the gangs that 'The Company' is employing? There are only two left: Us, the Red Knives, and the Green Emeralds. The Green Emeralds know that they don't have the Dust Stone, so we must have it, and the Company also wants it. We're going to be mauled on two fronts if we don't have every man available."

"That _would_ explain the amount of…conventional weaponry I'm seeing," I gesture to the small machine pistol resting on the inside of one of the goons' jackets. "But what can I do?"

"You have a gun. Even though you refuse to unlock your Aura, no matter how miniscule, you're still useful." Right, unlocking my nonexistent Aura. I forgot that even the goons around me have _some_. Even if it means only taking one hit before they can get slashed apart for real, one hit can mean a big difference between victory and defeat. I…don't have that. I'm surprised I haven't lost a limb. "There's a set of armor in the back, if you want."

"If we end this, can I be freed?" I ask, my expression hardening in anticipation, perhaps some determination. Junior turns, resting his hands on the bar as he looks down at me.

"Sure, whatever. If we end this, we can go back to normal operations, without any of these weird kids in my business," Junior shrugs.

"Then I'll do it," I nod in the affirmative.

"Good," Junior walks off, adjusting his tie. Suddenly, all the lights in the club spazz out. Red. Green. Red. Green. Flickering between the two like some strobe light war. The color settles on a bright and pale green. The sound of the large front door being forced open draws our attention. Men in black shirts, with dark green vests and gold trim. They burst into the space, drawing weapons as they get into position to fight. One in the center strolls in after everyone else, a golden cane in one hand. The mask on the lower half of his head, and the round spectacles over his eyes, obscure his identity, although the shaggy minty-green hair makes him look unique anyway.

"Put down your weapons," the man decrees. Every Knife in the room has some weapon drawn, ranging from the standard cleaver-gun to a mini-gun to a rocket launcher. I take a second to realize that, even though it's not raised, my left arm is tensed, and a red gun-blade is resting in my palm. "Do it now, or you all die."

"Not good," I mutter.


	13. Chapter 13

The Red Knives start to lower their weapons before Junior snaps his fingers. Immediately, everyone in the room stops moving. I track his movements in the corner of my eye, inching ever so slightly for the cover of the bar.

"No. Do you think you have any right to stroll into _my_ club, point guns at _my_ men, and declare whatever the fuck you want from _me_?" Junior takes a few steps forward, gesturing to himself before pointing his finger at the Emerald leader.

"Yes," the man shrugs nonchalantly. "You know what I want. The Dust Stone. Here. Now."

"No," Junior's gaze could turn a lesser man to stone in that instance. After all, the Red Knives have been using the Dust Stone in short bursts in order to conserve Dust and energy. The black crystal never seems to run out of power or resources. It's an important commodity. Rather than shrink at Junior's piercing eyes, the man chuckles.

"Fine then, I'll just take it by force," he taps his cane to the ground and the Emeralds take aim again. The second the first shot is fired, all hell breaks loose. The Malachite twins drop from the ceiling in a twirling lotus of death as I pop a few bullets out and hide behind the bar. Gunfire sprays left and right, and I struggle to distinguish any of it. I'm surprised I haven't been taken out by a stray ricochet or anything. _Junior mentioned some armor in the back. I could use anything I can right now_.

I bolt for the back, hoping for safety. A projectile passes dangerously close to my foot, but it doesn't make contact. Still, it spurs me to move just that much faster before pulling the back door shut behind me.

"Armor, armor, armor, armor," I mumble to myself, perusing the large collection of things inside the room. I find the thing in a closet: shoulder pads, greaves, gloves, shin covers, hip guards, chest plate, something that wraps around my waist, a helmet, and a mask that resembles that of a Grimm. All this in white and silver. Combined with the thick black and red undercoat which gives off a metallic sheen, I doubt anything could reach me on the first try.

"Oh yes. This. This I can live with," I pull the thing out of its case, tossing my jacket to the side and suiting up.

/

The first part of beating an enemy is preparation. Naturally. Or, you could just hit them. Repeatedly. From behind. I let my armored hand penetrate the Emerald's Aura, making him collapse from the unexpected impact. I immediately dive to cover and draw my weapon, popping kneecaps where I can and stabbing anyone who happens to step near. The armor is heavy, as expected, and a bit clunky, but everything feels…dull against it. Which is good. Dull rather than sharp biting electrically excruciating pain pulsing through my whole body. That's good.

The fights begins to leak outside, as there's just not enough room in the club for two entire gangs to duke it out. I follow the action, at this point armed with one of the Emeralds' signature weapons. A thin mid-length rifle that extends and compacts simultaneously into a staff with a weighted end and a stabby end. Like a halberd, but for smashing. Equipped with my Christmas-themed weapons, I manage to somewhat fluidly switch between swinging and shooting. The extra firepower helps cover me, so that nothing happens to tear a new hole in my side…again. Despite this, we're losing. Not terribly so, but the club building is starting to creak and groan from all the bullets and explosions occurring throughout it. An Emerald sweeps my leg with his weapon, and right before he can bash my head in, something miraculously lucky occurs.

We're saved, when a familiar red cloak and rifle-scythe appear, slicing through the sea of green like a lawn-mower. People are tossed into the air, seemingly by magic. Four of the same black cat phase in and out of existence in a small group of fighters before converging into a single person, wielding a cleaver-sheath and a katana-pistol. Everyone, Knife or Emerald, falls to the floor. A bright missile streaks through the sky with a whistle before colliding with the street and scattering all the Emeralds trying to reach Junior. The blonde with the shot-gauntlets lands beside him, priming her weapons and entering a boxing stance.

"You called?" the woman, who I recognize as Yang from Jaune's stories, gives a playful smirk as the fighting, previously paused to spectate the sudden destruction, resumes by the signal of another fiery shot-gauntlet projectile. I shrug, whirling with the rifle-staff after feeling some sensation on my back. Some Emerald has a cleaver-gun in his hand. He collapses on the spot as I move on to the next one, although I can't ignore the sudden sharp pain in my shoulder. As I notice a flash of white out of the corner of my eye, I sweep with the rifle-staff. The thing gets caught in a block of ice. The extra unexpected weight rips it from my grasp, and it clatters a few feet away.

Weiss, if I remember correctly, lands in front of me with her rapier drawn. From her gaze, it looks like she has some strange personal vendetta against me. Maybe it's the mask? I mean, it _does_ resemble a Grimm faceplate, the very thing Hunters and Huntresses train up to fight. As she charges me, propelled by a streak of white circles on the ground, I try to dive to the side. I mistake the speed she has, though, and the strike of a rapier slices under my arm. To my luck, I manage to grip her arm as she tries to return to a starting position, her momentum carrying us to the ground. My back slams against the pavement and Weiss' quick recovery lets her point the tip of a blade at my neck.

"Hey hey hey, I'm technically on your side here," I announce, removing the mask from my face. Bullets fly and force the Huntress-in-Training to get off, although I can already feel her one hit on me doing its work, causing blood to seep through the fabric. The same goes for the cleaver that had been tapped into my opposite shoulder.

"You," Weiss accuses. "You were at the Breach. Ruby saved you from getting eviscerated. What are you doing with the Lieutenant's armor?"

"Who now?" I duck under a swinging Emerald weapon before the man ends up frozen by Weiss.

"The Lieutenant. I fought him on the train that exploded in the city square," Weiss huffs in annoyance.

"Well this thing was found in the closet," I tell her with a shrug. She seems to accept this answer as the fighting continues. Or maybe there's just no time for conversation among the bullets. With the help of the Malachite twins, and four Huntresses-in-training, the Emeralds don't stand a chance, beginning their retreat.

But not before the building collapses from a series of explosions occurring at the base of the structure. One final attack probably set up by the asshat who made all the lights turn green. Everyone gets evacuated from the strike range of the debris, except for three people. Three people who, unlike Ruby, had no speed to assist in their pushing people out of the way. Three people get caught at the edge of the debris. When the smoke and dust clears, all the Emeralds who weren't unconscious or dead have gone, and Junior's upper body is sticking out from the rubble. He's still conscious, luckily.

The Malachite twins get removed from their own concrete prisons by Yang and Weiss while I help get Junior out. The goons help destroy the debris to make the job easier. Junior's consciousness seems to be fading, a result from the blood coming from his side and the injuries to his legs.

As he falls from a lack of balance, I catch him on my shoulder. He's heavy, but what do you expect from someone so tall? I feel something get pressed into my palm as Junior starts to mumble. "The Malachites and I are probably going to be trapped in a hospital for a while. We can't run things, or really protect this. Stupidly enough, you're one of the most competent in my ranks. Protect the Dust Stone, kid, until we're up and running again. Don't let this 'Company' get their hands on it. Do that, and I'll let you go free."

"G-got it," I nod my head, moving my hand to slip the thing into my pocket. Trembling. Responsibility, fear, the adrenaline crash of the aftermath of a battle. I start to feel all the bruises and cuts that litter my body. Surprisingly, there's only a minor bump on my head, but there's a gash under my arm and the scrape of a bullet in my shoulder and a knife cut on my back. It all hurts. Bad. If it weren't for this armor I'd be dead. There's a bullet or two lodged in the metal plating of the torso.

"Good. Good," Junior's mumbles turn into peaceful whispers before he passes out. Yang takes him off of me, resting him on the ground as the sounds of police sirens and ambulances reach us.

"Well then," I pick up the "Lieutenant's" mask from the ground, glancing at it in my hands. I bite my lip as multiple decisions run through my mind.

"So, that was a thing," Yang rocks back and forth on her heels.

"That it was," I glance at the cloudy night sky. "Looks like I'll have to go, before police show up."

"Agreed. Some guy running around in a White Fang battle suit wouldn't exactly instill confidence in local law enforcement," Blake nods her head in affirmation.

"I still don't know what to think of you," Weiss' eyes narrow as I slip the mask back over my face.

"Then don't think of me," I compact the nearest rifle-staff and clip it to my back. My gun-blade is on my hip. The Dust-Stone is weighty in my pocket as I turn and bolt, limping away at the speed of a really dilapidated scooter. Every step pains me, sharp bites shooting up my ankles, but I keep going anyway. At some point it isn't about the need to escape the law enforcement so much as a need to just…keep moving.

/

 **A/N And now little Brandon has been stuck with the Dust Stone. And his room in the club is in tatters. Actually the whole club is in tatters. We're falling into what I estimate are the last three or four chapters of this story, which encompass the final and most complete actual arc (considering the fact that every other element of this story was sort of just jumbled together).**

 **As for RWBY's appearance in this chapter: Yes, this deviates from canon a hella ton now. Mainly, their purpose is to show the somewhat standoffish-yet-amicable dynamic of Yang and Junior. Not allies by any means, but not enemies, either. Plus it reduces the fighting and potential death of the narrator by having a sudden power spike to the allied team. After all, the longer a battle goes, the more likely death becomes…at least in my opinion. And yes, the narrator keeps narrowly avoiding death "because protagonist."**


	14. Chapter 14

"Ow," I pick myself up off the floor, removing the mask and clipping it to my hip. More injuries on top of the ones from a week ago. Not fatal, and not noticeable, either, but the need to wear a jacket and long pants during the day to cover it up is killing me. The room is surprisingly quiet with all the people shuffling around inside, but then again the sounds of swinging cleavers, staffs, and gunfire had filled the air only moments earlier. I'd been knocked to the ground by a hard sideways swing.

"I don't know why you push yourself so hard, kid," one of the goons calls out to me as he helps the others clean up shop. And by clean up shop I mean clean up green-vested bodies, but hey, whatever. I'm not looking in their direction at all, preferring to move to lean over the balcony, taking in the calm night air. It really shouldn't be calm. An entire penthouse was just ravaged by the remnants of a color gang, led by someone in the disguise of a White Fang operative. I researched the group a bit more in-depth than my first run after Weiss' confusion. Turns out the White Fang is a terrorist group partially responsible for The Breach. And some other…stuff. I thought it was racist propaganda bullshit, but I guess not.

"I push myself so hard because the longer we wait, the more time they have to close in on us and cut our heads off one by one," I glance over my shoulder at the goon. I make sure to keep my eyes at person level. Dead bodies scattered on the floor do not suit my stomach at all. The goon shrugs. The "Captain," I decided to call him. I cut actual names out of the equation. I'm Kid, he's Captain, and all the others are either some bullshit military ranks or have funny animal names like Spider and Salmon. "But hey, looks like we win. And we—The _Underground_ —will be ready for whatever happens."

"No Emeralds, no Knives, no Diamonds, no Suns," Captain agrees. "If this Company makes an appearance, we're totally screwed, though, until we can compile a true list of everyone involved in our Underground. They have the influence to just storm in and do what they will with us."

"I'm aware," I sigh, resting my head on my arms, still leaning on the railing. "That's why after tomorrow, this thing they're after, this Dust Stone, will be gone. Locked away, guarded unknowingly by the entire Atlesian Army."

"And just how will you do that?" Captain scoffs at the sheer size of that possibility.

"We're going to a primary military base tomorrow on a school field trip, because that Ironwood character loves to take all the kids he can into his indoctrinating wing early. I'll sneak it past security, then toss it into a wall in the bathroom."

"And you're just going to leave it there?" he comes out and leans on the railing beside me.

"What do you want me to do: Build a Dust-powered plasma cannon that can fit the Dust Stone in the firing chamber, so that I can fire elemental laser beams at the Company?"

"That sounds pretty cool, actually."

"Shush, it ain't happening. Something this powerful deserves to be buried, so it will be."

"Junior gave the thing to you, so it's your call," Captain moves to leave, finishing up the mess behind us. "Just don't fuck up."

"I won't," I assure him.

/

"Mayday, mayday, can anyone hear me?" I use my best "authoritative" voice into the radio, holding my arm precariously over the wreckage of the Bullhead. The thing is sideways in the ground, its side window giving us access to the radio like a bucket from a well. At the sounds of the crackling fire spreading from the engine to the rest of the hull, Ness tosses his jacket over the torn metal opening and jumps into the sideways vehicle shell, quickly prying out the entire radio and tossing it up to me. I catch it gratefully and give him a hand in getting back out.

"Run," he pushes me back as he moves out of the way. The fire erupts for a brief second, lighting up the air in orange and red. As I get myself back upright after tripping, I turn and glance at the other students. Some unknown force had brought the Bullhead crashing down in the middle of this vast forest. It's cold, there's a light flurry about us. Most of the students and the teacher survived the crash, but the two pilots are…not a sight I'd want to see again.

"Well…shit," Ness grumbles, face resting in palm. Drawing his charred scarf around his neck, the teacher addresses the class.

"Well, it looks like we're going to have a rough few hours while we wait for help to arrive," he lies through his teeth about the idea of help coming so soon, but the students seem to accept it. Ness, Janna, Lily, and I fiddle with the radio behind him, changing frequencies and continually sending out a signal. I pull out my Scroll, and, even though there's no service, I keep calling Jaune. I send a few texts for good measure, but nothing happens.

I pull my jacket closer to my person as a breeze strikes the area. Paranoia strikes my head. I have the Dust Stone in my backpack that I managed to save, along with the gun-blade, both hidden somewhat well. I wrapped the Dust Stone in the shell of a baseball, so it, well, looks like a baseball, even if it's a bit weightier than one. The gun-blade I hid in a shelled out clunky laptop. Those apparently still exist on Remnant. The gun-blade's disguise is really terrible, I admit. If I have the Dust Stone with me, though, it's possible that the Company knows and just blew me out of the sky. I severely hope not.

The class is set to work in quickly building a tiny reprieve out of the smaller and more controllable trees in the area, as well as broken pieces of the Bullhead. While some complain, a stern glance from Ness or the teacher makes them forget about it. I continue to try to speak into the radio, but that becomes too tiring after a while. Lily takes over, settling into a rhythmic morse code SOS.

The teacher tries to distract everyone with some campfire stories and songs, and it works for a bit, but not on me. I'm in the corner with my quartet, entrusted with the radio and trying to get a response. The sound of a Grimm suddenly impales every student with a stake of fear. Another, farther away, sounds immediately after.

"Grimm," I grumble, getting to my feet and wiping my pants off. Can't have too much of the snow sticking to me, or I might get hypothermia over time. I put my backpack on the ground and take out my laptop.

"I don't think a laptop is going to do much against a goddamn shadowy nightmare," Ness remarks as I grab both sides of the device before snapping it over my knee. "Or you could do that."

"That I could," I shake my hand to remove the excess debris of plastic and metal that disguised my gun-blade. I notice plenty of stares lock on to me, one at the sound of something breaking, and two at the fact that I now have a red pistol in my hand. I shrug my shoulders at the other students and the teacher. "What?"

"We better get moving," Janna stands tall. "The Bullhead wreckage, and our sour moods, are attracting the Grimm to us. If we stay here we'll be slaughtered." Fear that was already running rampant through the group escalates at all these unknowns. Ness runs over to the Bullhead wreck and grabs a loose pipe for himself. He starts taking some fallen paneling on the ground as well. Another Grimm howls.

"Stamp out that fire. Take the stronger branches with you, and we can sharpen them into some defense later," Ness orders as he passes the group, coming back to me.

"Y-you heard them, pack it up," the teacher circles his finger in the air, and the students break from paralyzing terror into a frenzy of work before we're all marching off. I glance over my shoulder at the arrow on the ground, made of some random metal panels and pointing in our direction. If anyone locates the Bullhead, they'll know to follow it, hopefully. Lily periodically taps out that SOS.

…-…

…-…

…-…

/

 **A/N aaaaand they're in the shitter now, eh?**


	15. Chapter 15

"Alright, what do we got?" I rub my hands to keep the blood flowing through them. Luckily, the class had left in the late morning, so we have a few hours of afternoon sun left. Unfortunately, it'll become really cold once that's gone.

"Water bottles, snacks, some lunch, a few chocolate bars, actual protein bars, a few energy drinks," Ness glances down at the same supplies. "Enough for everyone…for one or two servings."

"Do you mean actual satisfied servings or survival servings?"

"Five survival size servings," Ness amends and shrugs. "Janna, Mister Wimbley, and I will hand everyone their rations, and remind them to only eat or drink when they need to."

"Good," I nod my head as I climb the nearby tree again. Even up there, there's no signal for my Scroll. The accumulated injuries hidden by my clothes are starting to ache in the cold. The dilemma we're faced with is the need to use technological ways of signaling for help. With the waning sun, flashing a mirror into the sky isn't an option, and it'd be too obvious to use a flashlight at night. The Grimm would descend upon us immediately. The thing is, the radio battery is already halfway gone, and even with the collected Scrolls, there's no guaranteeing the fact that we only have two on at a time will make them last.

We've only been here for five hours, but with the students in panic, it's felt like a lot more. I'm surprised that none of my group has broken down yet. I mean, Lily's cold as all hell, and so she's curled up against my side, but it's not like she's going psycho. The sunset is beautiful as it arrives, and terrifying when it leaves.

"Hunker down, stay quiet," Lily tells the group, assembled in a circle in the dark. "Everyone sleeps at least near a buddy. With this weather, we'll need to monitor each other's health, and if you're still breathing or if you died of hypothermia in your sleep."

"We don't have any official shelter, so dig as best of a hole in the snow and ground as you can to sleep in. Believe it or not, the snow will act as an insulator after a few minutes," Ness informs them. "Get to work." After a good half hour for everyone to help make their holes, with a few made double-wide for the couples/friends-who-don't-give-a-fuck, everyone but two people let themselves fall into as best of a sleep as they can get to conserve energy and maybe forget about this waking nightmare for a bit. The two that are "on lookout," armed with spears used by carving the tree branches we had with my gun-blade, switch off after an hour, and the cycle continues. Lily stays against my side in a similar fashion to how Ness and Janna are positioned no more than six feet away from us. The short hill and pile of rocks are meant to give us slight shelter from any striking winds, but it doesn't really.

/

The sound of a surprised "The fuck?" startles me awake, immediately drawing my gun-blade. The action stirs Lily as well, but I stash my weapon when I realize that no one's in any actual danger. I pull myself from my miniature ditch and see Noah glancing down at a pile…of empty wrappers on the ground.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I narrow my eyes at the offending inanimate objects. The distraught look on the kid's face tells me that he's definitely not the culprit of this. The rumble from his stomach confirms it a moment later. "One of the lookout pairs must've decided they could take a midnight snack."

"Well that's dandy, I'm gonna starve," Noah complains, looking up to the sky as if some god might deliver upon him some reprieve.

"You'll be fine," I dig into my jacket and produce a protein bar, unwrapping it and tearing it in half. "Here, take some of mine."

"Dude, thank you so much," he gingerly takes the fragment in his hands, savoring every nibble as he returns to his hole in the ground.

"That was so nice," Janna teases as the remainder of my group comes to sit down next to me in the snow.

"It's not his fault some asshole took his food. Some selfish bastard out there," I jerk my head back at the group, "Is going to get us all dead earlier than expected."

"I'm just glad that the Grimm didn't come in the night and gobble us up," Ness shrugs, laying back down and spreading out, hands interlocked behind his head. "Any luck with the radio?"

"Nothing," Lily sighs, tapping out the signal for another few minutes before packing it up again to conserve its battery.

"So, is this where all the cool kids hang out?" Mr. Wimbley lets out a noise of discomfort as he drops from a standing position to sit down next to us.

"Hey, Teach," I incline my head towards him as he takes a small sip from his water bottle.

"I just wanted to thank you four. You really helped keep those guys in line," Wimbley looks back at the group, slowly waking in the face of the rising sun. We all up to watch the sky unfold in its magnificent hues.

"It's no problem, Mister Wimbley," Janna gives a thin smile. In that small moment of bliss and mutual respect—which is surprising between a teacher and his students—I hear it. The most glorious sound. A twig snapping. I twitch my head to the noise, and notice a deer, far in the distance, nibbling at the half-dead grasses in the area. There's wildlife around here. We have a chance at more food to live off. We have fresh snow we can use to help tend to any wounds people have, or we could start a fire and boil it so it's drinkable. Oh, the possibilities.

If only someone wasn't hell-bent on selfish luxury in lieu of survival. I'll find the moron who is stealing rations before I dare to try and bring more food in for him to pillage. Tomorrow's the last day the rations will survive to, but hopefully that deer can prolong our starvation a little longer.

/

 **A/N I actually know little about survival so the next four chapters are gonna be a bit far-fetched, probably.**


	16. Chapter 16

"Damn, it's cold," I mutter and wrap my jacket tighter around myself, hoping to stave off the biting frost that surrounds me. Over the ridge is the rest of the group, most of which are sleeping. Man, I wish I could go to sleep, myself, but I'm determined to locate the greedy bastard before lights up. We won't be undermined by one or two idiots' lack of self control.

Just as my eyes really feel like giving up, I see abnormal movement. More of a scare tactic than anything, I prep my gunblade, deploying the sharp instrument in my hand. One of the two students who should be watching for grimm is bent over the ration pool of a sleeping kid. Definitely not his own. I leap from my perch, dropping the fifteen feet into the pre-planned snowbank to break my fall and pointing my weapon at the hooded kid. I didn't memorize the guard schedule except for my own, so I have to wait for his head to snap up to figure out who it is.

"Woah, woah, bro, calm the hell down," the kid straightens his body and raises his arms in surrender. Gregory. That school bully who thought he was better than the rest of us for…some reason. I never actually bothered to listen to him.

"Are you seriously stealing from the other students?" I whisper harshly, my eyes narrowed onto my target. Out of the corner of my left one I notice the other student gripping his sharpened stick in a mix of terror and desperation.

"Dude, it's no big deal. I'm just a bit hungry is all," the look on Gregory's face shows that even _he_ knows the terrible weakness of that argument.

"A bit hungry? A _bit_ hungry?" I step through the snow to come closer to him, lowering my weapon and grabbing him by his collar. What training I got from Junior and the Malachites on the topic run through me. I straighten my back and raise my chin so that my eyes have to angle down to meet his own. "Don't you think _all_ of us are 'a bit hungry?' Have you ever heard of a little self control? We're in a survival situation, so fuck your luxury. A full stomach isn't something any of us can really afford if we want to make it past tomorrow." I'm aware of the slight growling creeping into my voice, but I let it happen.

"W-w-well it doesn't matter, I just wanna live, okay?" he stammers, his voice raising in volume and pitch before I throw him to the ground.

"We all want to live, but sacrificing others' well-being for your own comfort isn't going to solve a damn—," I pause as I feel a strange sensation in my back. Granted, the acute pressure isn't in the center, more off to the side, but it's very clear, even with the numbness of the cold, that there's something _stabbing_ me. I jerk forward in surprise before turning and swinging my gunblade with precision, pulling it inwards so that it only goes far enough to cut the offending weapon in two.

The student who—in his panic that I might oust them—stabbed me in the back stumbles onto his butt at the display, dropping the half of the spear in his hands as the other half tumbles through the air before implanting itself in the snow. I take a staggered step forward, the cold ripping right through the new tear in my jacket and into my wound before I drop on top of him, faces lined up and my gun blade digging into the snow right by his head.

"Tomorrow we're going hunting, and you're going to help. Don't, and you don't eat. Try to steal rations again, and you don't _breathe_. Got it?" The kid nods his head vigorously before I release the pressure of my free arm against his chest and stand up.

"I won't say a word of this, but you two better shape up from here on out," I tuck my weapon into my jacket and walk over to the first aid kit. It's not a deep wound at all. Barely pierced my flesh. It doesn't instill confidence in me that we could fend off any Grimm that approach, but it gives the others confidence, so it can't be too bad. I'm surprised that I had such a commanding demeanor within me, but then again I _did_ control the remainder of a gang for a week, and did drug deals with them beforehand. After I patch myself up, I curl back into the designated sleeping hole that Lily and I have and let sleep overtake me.

/

"You see that deer there? You two are going to help us get that thing so we can feed the twenty-six mouths back at the encampment," I hand the first kid the rope we happened to find in the Bullhead. "Lily knows how to set up the trap." While Gregory used to be a school bully, and in fact tried to start shit with me multiple times, seeing him reduced to a confused and scared mess is…liberating to some extent. While Lily teaches him and his friend how to make and set up the snare, I stand on an elevated tree branch, shoulder leaning against the trunk. It's important to keep an eye on the student encampment, not too far from where we are now.

"So, that's our perp?" Janna looks out on the horizon as she stands against the same tree.

"Yep. Figures, right?" I shrug. "His friend literally stabbed me in the back last night."

"You okay?" she raises an eyebrow to this.

"Meh. It's happened…multiple times before," I roll my eyes.

"You're not a regular student, are you?" Janna sighs.

"Not particularly. For multiple reasons, but the main one I guess is the fact that I was part of the Red Knives…until recently."

"When that club fell?" Janna recalls the news on the topic. "I heard the morning of this oh so wonderful field trip that the Red Knives had dispersed, but that they'd slaughtered the remaining gang activity in the past week before they did."

"There's nothing left," I shrug. "Every fund of the Red Knives was distributed among its members, and they were left to their own devices. Every Green Emerald is dead or agreed to attempt to live a normal life. The other two gangs were eliminated and disbanded in an unrelated bout. When the Company arrives, we'll rise again. No colors, just the Underground versus all."

"How do you know all this?" There's a clear expression of worry and surprise on her face. Perhaps she's still trying to soak up the fact that the new kid she met not that long ago was part of a gang war.

"I planned it. The day before the field trip." I sigh. "Either way, none of that matters if these kids don't get back to their families. The deer around here will keep us alive if we can catch one or two."

"That's…daunting," Janna bites her lip, turning back and watching Gregory get smacked in the face by the bent branch he was trying to tie down. She laughs a bit at the small amount of karma.

/

 **A/N The characters of Gregory and his friend were meant to be introduced in some part of this "normal school life" arc that never happened. Mainly because I'm entirely out of tune with what casual school life would be like. This "telling" version of everything, which I said would end up happening, will have to do.**


	17. Chapter 17

"Hey-o!" Gregory pumps his fist in the air as the deer yelps, trapped in the snare he helped create. After two days of the trap not catching anything, and everyone starved of a day of food, the success is welcomed. Almost hungrily, he runs forward with stake in hand. Before he can actually do anything, though, his friend stops him.

"It won't do to just slaughter the thing," Jonah swipes the makeshift tool from his friend's hand before bending down in front of the helpless animal's face. He starts to whisper something, not that I can hear it from here, but the deer seems to relax by his words. He even goes as far as to stroke its muzzle. Before the blood flies. It's gentle, but there's still spatter from the initial incision. "Hey, get that blanket we brought to carry this thing."

Gregory complies, running beneath me on his mission to deliver sustenance to the group. I can't help but smile a bit at the exchange. Jumping from my perch and stomping over to the other boy at a volume that lets him know of my presence. Don't want to spook him a second time. I can see the half-contented smile on his face as he gets out of his kneeling position, clapping his hands into some snow to remove the red hue on them. I put a hand on his shoulder before speaking up. "See the power of some honest hard work?"

"Yeah, I guess," Jonah puts his hands on his hips as he looks at the animal, whose eyes had been closed. It looked somehow relaxing, despite the three large incisions across its body. Down one thigh, across the throat, and down the torso. He must've caught my inspector's eye, because he explains soon enough. "Farmers' method. Kills the animal and drains the blood faster this way."

"Interesting," I appraise as Gregory reappears with the blanket. Mister Wimbley is with him.

"I thought I might help bring this back to the students. Ness has already started the works of another fire to cook this on," the teacher explains.

"That's good. Come on, let's load this up," I beckon them to help lift the recently-deceased deer onto the blanket after Jonah cuts the snare. After we roll it up and haul it back, with each of us taking a corner of the venison-blanket burrito, we unravel it before the other students. Most are amazed or indifferent, but of course a few are disgusted.

Thanks to Jonah's expertise, combined with Lily and a few other students', we soon have an efficient cut of the entire deer laid out in a line leading from the edge of the pit to the actual fire. We spend the day roasting the meat, while Lily does something with the bones. As the sun begins to set, the smell of venison permeates the camp. After two days of absolute terror and fear at starving to death, this is a welcome change. The deer was large, enough to feed everyone for two more days.

Everyone's almost jovial, singing stupid childhood songs that I don't recognize and swaying to their own out-of-tune music. Despite the discord of their voices mangled together, the message behind it is enough to bring a flutter to my heart. Even the one vegetarian we had in the class had to give in to the allure of the deer. One of her friends had apologized profusely for it, but she didn't mind, surprisingly. That's what survival will do to some people, I guess. The remainder of the cooked meat is put into the lunch boxes. Once again, I fall asleep to the familiar sound of the SOS Lily keeps putting out.

/

I wake up to a howl. It's in the distance, but I do hear it, jerking me from my slumber.

"Beowolf," Lily, already crouching beside me, informs. Strapped across her shoulder is the radio box, but in the other hand is a…white spear. From the looks of it, she put the washed bones of the deer to use. One half of its jaw is tied to a leg bone to create a sort of weapon. When I turn to locate Ness, I see that he has a similar contraption.

"Did they find us again?" I whisper to her, pulling myself up and feeling every injury in my body ache. While the cold normally numbs it beyond belief, the warmth of sleep unfortunately makes the pain return.

"It seems like it," she groans, tapping out an SOS again before standing up.

"Wake everyone. Quietly. Tell them to pack up everything. We need to move," Ness also gets up. It doesn't take long for everyone to spring to action, but it also doesn't take long for the general population to start to freak out. While Mister Wimbley calms them down physically, it's clear that mentally they're still running rampant with all the deadly possibilities. We move out quickly, with the teacher, Lily, and I in the front, and Ness, Janna, Gregory, and Jonah in the back. As we're travelling, and the sounds of moving Grimm keep us paranoid, the radio suddenly blips to life.

"Bullhead des—…nation 7605-V…please...—pond," the radio sputters with static. It's cutting in and out, but I can fill in the gaps enough. _Bullhead designation 7605-VCC please respond_.

"Oh my god," my eyes go wide as I look at the unassuming box at Lily's hip. The group springs to life, almost everyone stopping and gathering around the radio as Lily fumbles with the microphone.

"Hello? Yes, these are the passengers of Bullhead 7605-VCC," Lily picks up the transceiver.

"Bull—…sig…760—…respond," the radio forces its message again. _Bullhead designation 7606-VCC please respond._

"Please respond? But we just did," Mister Wimbley vocalizes our thoughts.

"I don't think we have a strong enough signal to pump out actual words," Lily shakes her head, clipping the transceiver back onto the radio box and resorting to pressing the signal button she's been using.

…-…

…-…

…-…

"Come on. Come on," Ness looks expectantly at the box. I can't help but feel the same apprehension. So many days and we finally get a signal. After a long silence the machine drones to life again.

"Message rec—…Bullhead 76—…what is your situation?" the person on the other end demands. _Message received, Bullhead 7605-VCC. What is your situation?_

"Downed in forest. Grimm nearby," Lily mumbles as she taps her finger on the signaling key.

-.. - .- -. . -.. / .. -. / ..-. - .-. . ... - .-.-.- / -. .-. .. - - / -. . .- .-. -... -.- .-.-.-

"Send—…Reinforce—…ng tight," the other end sputters after a long pause. "Leave…radio…signal on…track…location." _Sending reinforcements. Hang tight. Leave the radio's signal on so we can track your location._

"Received," Lily hits the button again.

.-. . -.-. . .. ...- . -..

"Batteries. Now," she holds on hand up expectantly. The sound of Grimm come again. In our stationary break, they've caught up some. At least they're still far away enough that they don't have a precise fix on us. Still, I don't know what gathered them to us…unless the negativity from the previous two days had finally reached them. Or the fact that we're the only human lives for miles. Maybe both.

Ness cracks open the bag of turned-off Scrolls in his backpack and hands her three. In the past days, they'd figured out how to route Scroll batteries into the machine, and thank god too. While the thing didn't require much to run while stagnant, the sending of signals and keeping the line open did drain it over time. The fact that we need to keep it actually transmitting constantly right now only makes battery life that much more important.

I send one final text to Jaune on my Scroll, just in case, as Lily prepares to link up the three in her hand. The Grimm sound off again.

"Can you do that while moving?" Jonah requests. Lily nods, and we're off again. If we avoid the Grimm long enough, we just might get through this.

/

 **A/N We're almost to the climax here! Two more chapters left.**


	18. Chapter 18

"Well shit," Mister Wimbley audibly curses, although the exclamation clearly surprises himself. We'd run straight into a mountain wall, thanks to the low visibility of the night sky coupled with the growing snowstorm. Ness points his fingers to the left, and we trek along the wall for a while, moving ever so slowly uphill before we see the first one. A Beowolf, with longer and deeper fur than normal, staring us down.

"Don't panic," I take a cautious step forward, putting myself between the Grimm and the rest of us. I deploy the gun-blade into my hand, its red hue having been worn down by the past few days, but still a very noticeable streak of red against the white canvas and the near-black tree trunks. "Maybe we can scare them off."

I'd think so. If Hunters have Aura that make it so that they can punch a Beowolf dead, then why would the Grimm bother going after them, rather than finding lesser targets? After all, human or faunus, sentient bipedal meat is sentient bipedal meat. But maybe they can't sense Aura. Or maybe they can? How else would they track us? _Shit_.

 _Too late now_ , I grumble internally. Besides, it's not like we could just move past the thing either way. The creature seems to realize that I'm stalling, because it bares its teeth before charging me. I guess weaponry in hand does nothing to make it scared of my potential skill…then again I've only ever fought humans. It can probably smell the fear lurking the back corners of my mind. In the snow, one trip could end me, so I decide to actually stand still and gather my footing before leaping to meet the beast.

Did I try to just punch a Beowolf in the throat after blocking its claw swipe with my gun-blade? Maybe. Did it work? No. I mean it prevented it from biting my head off outright, but it doesn't look like I did any damage with it. I'm just glad I'm still standing somehow, despite the massive impact jarring my frame. I pop my gun blade up to dislodge the monster's claws from it before slashing downwards against its neck. Its head whips downwards in reaction, and the wound starts to bleed black smoke.

I kick it in the face plate, forcing it to take a step back, but it recovers a bit too quickly. It leaps right back up at me, closing the distance faster than I would've liked. In a panic, I raise my gun-blade, quickly converting it to its pistol form and firing as many rounds as I can into its exposed throat and chest as it descends upon me. It seems to weaken it enough, but Grimm still collides with human and takes me to the floor. I feel more tears ripped into my jacket as claws try to find flesh. And they do.

In the short bout between man and monster, I struggle and punch the chin of the creature's snapping jaws, keeping it off my just enough to re-deploy my gun-blade as a sword and drive it up through the thing's throat. This time it seems to _actually die_. Or, whatever constitutes death for a Grimm.

"Well… _fuck_ ," I groan, letting the creature dematerialize quite a ways before getting up. The dead weight was actually too heavy for me to just push it off in my current state.

"That's what it took for us to defeat _one_ Grimm?" one of the students exclaims. "With an actual weapon?"

"What can we possibly do with a bunch of sticks?" another one questions. More get thrown around before full-on panic breaks loose. Exactly what we don't need.

"Maybe, if you all would shut up and stop freaking out like a bunch of babies, we wouldn't attract Grimm to us to begin with!" Ness barks, hushing the cacophony of voices. "They're attracted to negativity, like _your_ bitch ass." Lily appears at my side, helping me to stand and patting me down to check my wounds. There's a surprising amount that, once again, with the general adrenaline and the cold, I didn't notice right away.

Claw marks all around my midsection, a specific puncture wound through my right side, long drag marks against the side of my head, and some marks on my left arm. My right arm is worse off than my left, though, with deeper gashes. Luckily, my jacket had padded many of the blows, but…I'm still bleeding a lot. As she's doting over me, we hear the unfortunate signal of worse to come. The Beowolf's howl again. Either attracted by the terror in the students or the gunshots it took to save me from dying immediately.

"Shit," Janna purses her lips as she, Ness, and Lily all move to surround the student group. The teacher, as well, stands tall and takes up a sharpened stick. Without Lily's support, I stumble to lean against a tree for support, clutching my torso wounds, my gun-blade taken by the faunus girl so that Ness and Janna have the deer-jaw-spear things. The Grimm come into view, automatically making the students press up against the wall. Jonah and Gregory, however, stand with my friends, despite the watery knees.

"Might as well go out fighting," Gregory shrugs. Right after the lead Beowolf leaps at the group, and collides with an X block between two bone-white spears, a brilliant light flashes above the clouds, hazily reaching us and illuminating the army of Grimm even further. You know, before bullets join the snow in raining down on the forest, cutting Grimm down like grass in a field.

The Grimm desperately charge the students before a familiar set of eight individuals drop in front of us. Jaune's and his friend's teams. Jaune hashes out a quick protect and eliminate set-up before everyone breaks to follow his plan. I stumble forward and grab Jaune's hoodie, forcing him to turn around.

"Brandon!" Jaune's arms grab my own and pull me up to eye level. "I got your text around the same time the VDF became aware of a VCC Bullhead crashing in a grimm-infested forest. I figured it was the same thing."

"Y-yeah," I nod my head wearily as one of the ships above us radios a message across the forest.

"7605-VCC Bullhead passengers have been located. Dropping rescue units." I can barely make out descending platforms powered by jets on each corner.

"Oh my god you're bleeding," Jaune straightens me out further as he looks at my arm.

"Ha, because the injuries on my _arm_ are the problem," I chuckle. A bit morbid, but I can feel my consciousness slipping anyway. In my body's throbbing and trying to get blood and energy through it, I feel a round object beating against my side. The Dust Stone. "Hey, look, I know you said I needed to try and live my life here, redeem myself, whatever. I tried, okay? I tried to get out of it all, but it sort of…went up in flames. The underground gangs in Vale are dispersed or dead, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be, too, some time today. I guess I redeemed myself, maybe, I helped save all those fuckers."

I gesture to the class, huddling into the escape platforms and grabbing the support rails as the things take off. "But there's one last thing I need you to keep for me," I put the baseball in his hand.

"A baseball? Wait—you were part of a gang?" Jaune exclaims, surprised. His intense blue eyes focus on my own, locking me in place with worry and compassion. "Look, you're talking nonsense if you think you're not getting out of here. We're all here, the Grimm are just about gone."

"No, man. The cold, the blood loss," I click my tongue. "On top of my existing injuries, I'm done. Just take that, okay?" I press the baseball further into his palm. As I grip his shoulder for stability, I see the sword and shield he uses, discarded and planted in the snow in order to catch me when I stumbled up to him to begin with. "Take this, keep it safe. What's _inside_ that thing probably has the power to win all your battles or make you lose all of them. Just promise me you'll keep it in safe hands."

A pause as Jaune considers my words. "I promise," he nods his head, determination suddenly setting hard on his face.

"Good. That's good," my grip starts to loosen. When I look down, I realize that blood had actually been dripping out of my body this entire time. Explains a lot, there. The way that cold makes the body contract most of its blood to the torso probably increased my blood pressure. A lot more spatter. Ow. Granted I'd experienced similar wounds before. Hell, I fought in a gang war. I survived in a snowy forest. I helped save an entire class. I made some friends, turned a few bad eggs around. I relearned fencing. I used it to kick some ass. I had a fun time, realistically. A bit morbid, but it was satisfying. I'm…content. I'm okay with this.

I slip from Jaune's grip, and the boy drops onto his knees with me, keeping my bloody head on his lap. As my eyes start to flutter and shut, I feel my body shut down, my fingers loosen up further. Everything, despite the yells of Hunters and Huntresses-in-training, and the cries of monsters falling. The snow, the sky, the trees. It's all so, serene. Even that trail of red on the white ground just looks…calming.

"I wish I could've done more, but it's enough. Goodbye, Jonah," I croak out, feeling a gloved hand try to shake me out of what's inevitable. Two circles of blue sky against the grey world poring over me with concern. One last breath.

/

My eyes slowly open up. Then shut with force. The light. It's intense, more vivid than anything I've ever experienced…well except for having my guts torn open. I try again, just one eye this time. Two. I let them slowly go from squinting to truly open. Everything is white. Is this _actual_ heaven? It's kinda…bland. White chairs, white walls, white beeping monitor thing, white bedsheet. Oh…Hospital. Okay. Seems legit.

I suddenly lurch forward.

"Hospital! I'm not dead?" I clutch my sides. Nothing. No injuries at all. My right arm? Nothing. My temple? Nothing. Clear, empty, like nothing ever happened. I check one more time, noticing a scar on my right side, and a recessed line on the left side of my head, shooting back from the edge of my eyebrow all the way to my cowlick. I start to mutter as I take this entire thing in. "I died. No. What the fuck. Hospitals are for the living."

I scramble out of bed, feeling my body turn to jelly the second gravity could take hold. Man, it feels like I've been asleep for forever. I half-crawl to the front of the bed. The patient clipboard! My arm snaps out automatically, clambering against the thing before it falls beside me. I frantically scan over it to find my name.

"Bryan Jodie," I read aloud, my voice barely above a whisper. "Bryan Jodie." My breath shakes, halting on the syllables. My Earth name. I hold the clipboard to my chest as I relax, my head coming to rest against the hospital floor. "Holy. Fucking. Shit."

/

 **A/N Did I just go there? I just went there. One last chapter, guys. One last piece of total confusion.**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N Here's the final chapter. Explanations and basic intentions at the bottom.**

 **Also before I continue I just want to drop a theory. I finally watched chapter 6 of RWBY Season 3 and I noticed (I think, I didn't go back and check any of this) that Ironwood said he found a way to capture, store, and transfer Aura. But, he never said synthesize or create Aura. Penny often refers to a father, as well as Ironwood. My theory is that Penny IS a real girl, in the sense that her Aura/soul came from an actual girl, which this "father" was the actual father of before Ironwood happened (most likely he saved the Aura of a girl who was going to die anyway).**

 **And now the actual last chapter: Enjoy.**

/

Have you ever been given a second chance? I have. It feels really strange. More than it should, really. I mean, I'm back in the world that I started on, that I grew up with. And yet, it feels off. I wake up every morning expecting something different than what I'm presented with. Then again, I spent months in a fantastical world where almost anything could happen, so, maybe it's not _that_ strange.

I'd been comatose for exactly the same time. It took a year of rehabilitation to truly return to normal, both mentally and physically. I'll be real, the contrast between Remnant and Earth hit me hard. Recovering was a wild ride, and my girlfriend had given up on me at some point between going comatose and struggling to recover. At the same time, my previous relationship with Lily in Remnant had made me disenamored with her, anyway. Something about it just…didn't click with me and her anymore. So, it's not the worst thing ever. I've had my own adventures since then.

"Hey, Jonah," I start to talk from my position in the chair. Jonah Kolanowski. A real life person who was also in Remnant. Or, more accurately, with his mind stuck in Remnant. Some second-chance world. Somehow, I'd passed the test, I guess, since I woke up instead of died like I thought I did. I thought I did twice. I'd found Jonah after a while of searching. He didn't die like he said when he was Jaune Arc, but a burning beam hit him in the back of the neck, sending him comatose. Similarly, the last bullet from Dave grazed the side of my head, puncturing the skull and just barely nicking the brain. It was enough, somehow, for the same effect. "So, I made it out. Remnant. What you told me, back there, it stuck. I really made a difference in that little world, and I got to come back here. I hope that you can do the same. I'm the captain of the fencing team this year. And I…stopped the drug stuff…you didn't know about that to begin with." I stop to take a shaky breath. Despite the body not being able to actually hear me, I can at least hope that the sentiments reach the mind within. "Everything's…everything's better, now. More calm."

I pause, standing up and pacing around the room. "Just…yeah." I move over and stand next to the nightstand, seeing the still-fresh flowers placed there, along with the cards. I begin digging into my pockets. "I hope that the Dust Stone is still safe, there. That thing could destroy that fancy little realm, and…some other people need it. To know, to learn, to be given a chance to step back from reality. To feel…I don't know how to explain it all. Like they matter, I guess." I put the card I'd been holding onto on the nightstand before drifting towards the back corner. "The girl is safe, by the way. The one from your death story? You didn't die, either. You're in a coma, your mind detached and living in Remnant. When it's time for you to return, I'm guessing you will. When you come back."

I place the crystalline black gem in the pocket of his shirt, which is laying on top of his clothes in the corner. The object is made less conspicuous by being set inside of a gold signet ring. Hopefully he'd recognize the twin crescents placed on the side face's engraving, and the words cast on the inside. _Just live, for all that you can –Brandon Jerrit_. I guess the pile of clothes is in waiting, for if he ever wakes up unexpectedly.

"When you come back I need you to guard this. I managed to visit your parents. Nice people. Seven sisters must be rough, though. I don't know how you handle that. I saw all the fantasy posters, mythological toys and whatnot. I think that…if what I have here is what I think it is, you need to protect it. Maybe it'll serve as a reminder to you that Remnant is real, as well. _I'm_ out. I want nothing to do with it. But you? I know you can manage.

"Take care, Jaune. Jonah. Whatever. And I thank you for setting me on the right path, even if unintentionally." I walk out of the hospital room with a sense of a weight lifted off my shoulders. Calm. I readjust the bag on my shoulder so that the fencing sabers don't clatter as much before leaving the hospital, hopping onto my motorcycle, and pulling the helmet onto my head. A silver-grey helmet with familiar tribal red markings sparsely placed throughout. Then I drive.

Life. Life is interesting, how it can throw you for a total loop. Make you believe you died, or that you _should_ die, only to bring you back. Sometimes, you just gotta go with the flow. It gets better. You just have to stick with it until it does, even if it comes in the most unexpected of ways.

/

 **A/N THE END!**

 **This was a fun concept that sprung to mind that fateful day. Partially spurred on by my insanity and some personal issues, this thing appeared: The idea of Remnant as a sort of Purgatory trial. Essentially, younger people who die before they were supposed to, or had lived unfavorable lives but still could be redeemed, would wake up on Remnant. There's the Family of Heroes, the Arcs, where those who's dying wish was to protect others or something of the like end up. And presumably there'd be similar other families or organizations. But for someone who just wanted to survive? Random hilltop.**

 **The little things in this story were meant to show some aspect of Brandon's evolution.**

 **He got shot and "killed" after not letting a druggie slide by without paying in full.**

 **Not giving that homeless guy any money like** _ **way**_ **back in chapter 5(?)**

 **Pain by inaction: His not helping the convenience store owner ended up getting a couple shot**

 **Inner turmoil of drug use and moral dilemmas**

 **Pausing before helping Jaune during the Breach**

 **Wanting to quit the Red Knives**

 **Dissembling the entirety of the gangs in Vale, although leaving a seed of a potential singular gang if the need arises**

 **Immediately sacrificing his own food so that Noah could eat, as well as being primarily focused on helping the class rather than anything else.**

 **Because of his evolution from being selfish to being quite selfless and literally self-sacrificing, he got a second chance at life, rather than (whatever interpretation you have of what happens to the bad people when they die). It's like a trial.**

 **And obviously this posits another possible theory on Jaune: His lack of ability, cluelessness about the world he lives in, etc.**

 **The golden signet: Did I just make the suggestion of the Dust Stone on Earth? Maybe.**


End file.
